


oh, dear, you look so lost

by Jax (jacquienicole105)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10600179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacquienicole105/pseuds/Jax
Summary: "She said, I think I'm going to BostonI think I'll start a new lifeI think I'll start it overWhere no one knows my name"-Boston by Augustana~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Clarke is running home to Boston from an abusive marriage and an unhappy life.Lexa is the first female in the MLB, out to break barriers and prove the sports world wrong.Neither are looking for a relationship but could a chance encounter change that?Sorry, I'm really bad at summaries. Please give it a read if you're interested in love, heartbreak and a TON of fluff.





	1. Counting Down

**Author's Note:**

> So I spent my sick day in bed working on the first few chapters of this after having a weirdly vivid dream. I'm gonna post the first two chapters now and the third in a week or so. Let me know in the comments below or at the end of the next chapter if I should continue pursuing this story. I might anyways but it depends on my schedule tbh. Engineering classes and work can kick some serious ass. 
> 
> Anyways, everyone have a lovely week!!
> 
> xo Jax

* * *

 

_Five_

The number of playing cards sitting in a frame on the wall over the coffee maker in their kitchen. The cards they both reached for from the floor in a poker game at a small house party their sophomore year. It was how they met, tipsy from beers but drunk from laughter and rebellion.

“Finn,” the boy said charmingly, reaching his other hand out to shake hers. He had floppy hair and an equally flippant grin on his face.

“Clarke,” she replied with a smirk on her face.

Things had been so simple then.

_Four_

The number of Matryoshka dolls they had sitting atop their fireplace. They had bought them during a trip in Moscow with their friends before they returned to reality and grad school. They had argued over whether to buy them. Clarke thought they were beautiful in their contradicting intricacy and simplicity. Finn thought they were unnecessary. She began on a rant about the time put into making them and their artistic integrity.

He shut her up with a kiss and roll of the eyes before handing money over to the amused vendor, grabbing them and Clarke’s hand before jogging down the street to catch up with their friends. They laughed the entire way.

The largest one now lay smashed in front of the fireplace, it’s broken eyes staring at Clarke’s from the ground.

_Three_

The number of places they had lived in together. The newspaper listings of the two apartments and this house were in a vertical frame at the entrance way. They had loved to scour the papers looking for places to live, going to some far too expensive in borrowed clothes that were also too expensive. They loved pretending to be young and rich, making comments like “the moulding will need to be redone” and “our baby grand would fit perfectly here” before running out of the ritzy houses giggling and kissing on the street.

Clarke was laying on the floor of the final house, a place that used to make her feel so warm and comfortable, now an inescapable prison. She was fading in and out of consciousness.

_Two_

The number of sinks in the master bathroom they had just renovated last year. They had spent their free weekends last summer tiling and painting, before somehow making a mess and falling into bed cackling together. They had spent hours shopping for the perfect appliances, fixtures and accessories. Finn wanted something more modern while Clarke wanted something more eclectic, something that would counteract the sterile feel of the hospital she worked in.

Now those fresh, checkered tiles that had been their “perfect compromise” had a stain of red blood from where Clarke’s head had been shoved into the corner of their vanity just hours before.

_One_

The number of times it took Clarke to hit Finn in the head with one of their fire pokers, leaving him unconscious on the floor. The number of straws Clarke had left to put up with a drunk, violent, abusive Finn before she was finally done.

She checked his pulse, called 911 and walked out the door with a quickly packed suitcase to an awaiting cab. She didn’t look back once.

 

* * *

 

“We are making our final decent into the Boston area. The temperature is a cool 45 degrees but the sun is shining and it is a beautiful October day. If everyone would make sure to put their seats into an upright position and buckle their belts, we will be arriving shortly. A stewardess will be making their way around the cabin one final time to collect any trash. We thank you for flying with us.”

Clarke opened her eyes slowing, waking to the rising sun filtering through the window. She adjusted her loosened scarf, tussled from her tragic excuse for a nap, to cover the bruises that littered her neck and chest. She squinted out the window to see the Bay area showing through the scattered clouds that she used to call home.

 _Twelve_. The number of sailboats she could see floating in the Massachusetts Bay.

 _Seven._  The number of birds she could see flying below the plane.

 _Four_. The number of times she had awoken with a start during the flight, panic overcoming her. The number of times she had to excuse herself to the bathroom and the older gentleman next to her had grumbled in discontentment at being disturbed again.

Counting had always been a way for Clarke to calm herself during times of duress. When she was a child she loved the Lisa Frank paint-by-numbers that her dad would buy. She remembered sitting in the kitchen coloring them in at breakfast while her parents cooked and laughed and danced. Her dad would have her count the quantity of each number so as distract her enough to kiss his wife. Clarke would always look up at the wrong time and fake retching noises while her parents laughed and continued their small displays of affection. Then the three of them would settle in with coffee, orange juice, and more pancakes than necessary while Clarke babbled on and on about her latest misadventure with Wells.

Those had been simpler times.

Now Clarke was on a plane, running from a home and a man she no longer recognized, hoping for a fresh start. And she realized with a shiver that she hadn’t cried once.

 

* * *

  

Raven was sitting in her kitchen, nursing a coffee and a hangover, praying to God that she would be able to recover enough to go to brunch later with Octavia and the gang. The clock ticking on the wall, which read 8:30, felt like someone was taking a battering ram to her head and Raven groaned, dropping her head to the cool marble countertop.

 _Damn you, tequila. And damn you Octavia for convincing me that tequila was_ ever _a good idea. And you, God, I hate using this term with women but you are such a_ bitch.

When Octavia had walked in from a double at the bureau last night, grinning from ear to ear at solving the month old murder case that had her entire team stubbed, she shouted to the bartender “A round of tequila shots for me and my friends if you’d please, because I AM FUCKING AWESOME!” Their group cheered and drank and Raven momentarily forgot why she had long since given up on that cursed liquor.

A knock at the door caused Raven to jump. _It must be… Rick? Wick? Naw, that couldn’t be right._ She was at a loss. _The Other Reason I No Longer Drink Tequila_ , she dubbed him. She had a tendency to fall into bed with just about anyone when tequila was involved.

She grabbed her coffee and shuffled towards the door when another knock shook her brain. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Jesus dude, what could you have forgo…”

When she opened the door, instead of a tall blonde (maybe he was brunette?) there stood a shorter blonde with a suitcase and blank eyes.

“Clarke? What… What are you doing here?” Raven looked around quickly before turning back to the blonde, “Is Finn with you?” At that last question the blonde flinched, a flash of pain in her eyes, before her face settled into a blank stare.

“Raven, can I stay with you for a bit? I… Finn and I… Finn, he… he…” and at that the façade broke and the girl crumbled in front of her. Tears began to fall, a single, harsh sob racked her body and Raven could swear she hadn’t see Clarke so broken since her father died.

Raven put her coffee down on the entrance way table and immediately stepped forward, engulfing the girl in a warm embrace. She pulled Clarke into the house gently, not pushing or prodding—either physically or verbally—before pulling her bag in as well and shutting the door. Without asking, she started moving the girl towards the master bathroom and began running an aromatic bubble bath.

It was what they did when the other was having a particularly difficult time. When Clarke’s dad died. When Raven got into her accident and almost had paralysis in her right leg (it took many baths, doctor’s visits, and physical therapy sessions to get her leg and mind anywhere close to where they had been before). When Bellamy enlisted into the Marines. Every breakup. Every loss. Every failing. Whenever one of them was at the brink, the others pulled them back with a warm bath, undivided attention and time.

Clarke was still standing near the door, silently crying as her face stilled back into its mask. She hadn’t said another word and Raven hadn’t asked.

“I’m take your clothes off now, okay?” The faintest nod from Clarke and Raven began to strip away her layers. First her scarf, revealing the finger-like bruises around her neck and scattering of bruises along her chest. Then her oversized cardigan and shirt revealing similar, larger bruises on her ribs, although some were yellowing and clearly older. This continued until Clarke was completely stripped down and Raven eased her into the lavender scented bubbles.

“I’m gonna move your bag into the guest bedroom, okay? I’ll be right back.” Another nod and the brunette was cracking the door and making her way back downstairs. She put the bag in the bedroom closest to the master before heading back to the kitchen, grabbing her phone and starting a kettle for tea. She dialed the second person on her favorites behind Clarke and waited.

On the third ring a very irate, very hungover voice spoke into the phone, “Raven, what the fuck? Do you know what time it is? I swear if someone isn’t dying someone will…”

“O, it’s Clarke. Cancel brunch with the group and get over here ASAP.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke sunk deeper into the bubbles as she stared out of the floor-to-ceiling window that the stand alone tub—honestly it was more of a miniature pool— was adjoining. Raven’s house was a beautiful, modern work of art—all glass and wood and strong lines. Clarke remembered when she bought the house two years ago after designing the first completely auto-pilot capable car for Tesla. They had seen multiple houses and apartments before settling on this house because of the view of the bay and the privacy, even with all of the windows.

 _Two_. The number of ducks playing in the water directly in front of the house.

 _Four_. The number of boats she had seen pass their little alcove since Clarke had entered the bath.

Clarke took a deep breath, submerging herself completely. Suspended in the water, she thought for just a moment that she could disappear and no one would notice. She could drift away for just a little and forget about the bruises and the pain. She could forget about _him_. Faintly, she heard her name being called but ignored it, burying herself deeper into the bubbles. Her name got louder and louder until a hand reached into the water, pulling her back to reality.

Clarke coughed, wiping the bubbles away to see Octavia kneeling next to the bath with a panicked expression and Raven wearing a similar expression while holding three cups of tea. Without a word, her two best friends brought in throw pillows from the bedroom and settled onto the ground around the bath, lending their silent support through their presence and Clarke, with closed eyes, began counting again.


	2. Healing Takes Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke begins to heal during her first six months in Boston.

  _One month later._

The group was settled in Raven’s open concept first floor with the large, pivoting glass doors closed and a fire raging in the living room, beers in hand and light music playing over the surround system. They had just finished moving all of Clarke’s boxes into the second bedroom, which Raven and Octavia had flown to San Francisco to retrieve the previous weekend and thrown into a moving truck.

Clarke had insisted it was too much work but Raven quickly brushed her off and said, “I’ve been meaning to take the new Tesla jet out for a longer trip, so this is the perfect time. Besides, you have literally been using all of my shit and I’m fucking tired of it,” the sly grin and shoulder bump belying her joke. Clarke shook her head at her friend’s propensity for bullshit; she had already taken the solar-charged jet on a longer trip and she cared even less than she did in college what Clarke borrowed from her. Clarke shook her head but allowed it, mostly because she had forgotten some of her favorite mementos—including her mom’s class ring and her Nana’s handmade quilt— as well as all of her art supplies in her hasty escape.

Now, here they were, the seven of them hanging out like old times, plus Lincoln—Octavia’s new boyfriend and Bellamy’s teammate. Raven was showing Monty her new house management system, Alex (based loosely on Amazon’s newest version of Alexa, but Raven thought hearing an omniscient female voice throughout the house would make her feel like God was always watching) and Octavia was judging an arm wrestling match between Bellamy and Lincoln in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Clarke, Wells and Jasper were playing a game of slapjack in the living room with a pack of cards recovered from one of the boxes; reminiscent of the times they played the game stoned with junk food surrounding them and Raven barking out laughter at Jasper’s hurt expression every time he was slapped.

And Clarke felt her walls begin to crumble for the first time since she had moved back home.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , she would be alright after all.

 

* * *

  

 _Two months later_.

 

Clarke was sitting in a chair next to the wall-encompassing window of her bedroom, an unread book and cold tea sitting on the table next to her. She felt the familiar feeling of overwhelming emptiness begin to descend upon her so she began counting. Twenty-two leaves on that branch. Two fishermen braving the December cold on the lake. Six times the sun came out between the clouds as she sat there.

Her methodical counting was interrupted by a “She hasn’t’ left her room in HOW LONG?!” and the annoyed owner of the voice came storming into her room with a flurry of dark hair and flashing blue eyes.

“Clarke. Clarke, look at me. You need to do something, Clarke. I know it’s hard, but I love you too much to let you waste away in here. Raven agrees with me. Tell her Raven.” Octavia turned to the apologetic figure in the doorway for support.

Raven sighed before glaring at Octavia not so subtly. “Yeah, I do agree with O. I was _hoping_ to talk to you about it _calmly_ over a nice dinner but this works too.” She moved to kneel in front of Clarke, placing a hand on her knee. “Look, I know it’s been hard. I _get_ it.” she said, referring to the abuse she witnessed from her father to her mother, and her mother to her. “But you can’t let this consume you. Maybe you can start working again? I know Wells said that they were looking for a new physician at…”

She was cut off by a strong voice—a voice husky from lack of use over the last few days but a strong voice, nevertheless—that rose in volume as it continued. “No. I went to medical school for my mom and Finn. Because she wanted me to be like her and he wanted us to be a power couple. I moved away from my home, from you guys, to follow Finn for his dream job. I worked at the hospital I worked at because Finn’s father had stock in it and it ‘just made sense’. For the past eight years I have done everything for others and I am _done_.”

Her two best friends stared at her shell-shocked, seeing a fire in the blonde’s eyes that hadn’t made an appearance in what felt like years. The fire seemed to simper and flicker out, and Clarke returned her gaze to the water.

“Well,” Octavia started after a moment, clearing her throat, “what do _you_ want to do then? Because I am all for this but you have to do something…”

“What about your art? We packed up all of your supplies,” Raven interjected and gestured to the unopened boxes sitting in the closet. “When is the last time you painted? Or drew? You were—are—amazing. Why don’t you try starting that up again? The third bedroom goes basically unused, you could set up in there. Or there are some cool shared-space studios in Coolidge Corner that we could check out. Or there…”

“Fine, fine. But I maintain the right to reject any option at any time, understand?” She questioned as she fixed her two best friends with a stern, unyielding stare.

The two looked at each other and turned back with small, encouraging smiles on their faces. Raven patted her knee again before standing and saying, “Yeah, Clarke. That is just fine.”

 

* * *

  

_Three months later._

 

Clarke was sitting on a stool in an empty studio in an old factory turned shared artists space in the older but upcoming part of Boston; they had searched the greater expanse of Coolidge Corner for weeks before finding one that felt right. She had just finished moving the rest of her supplies and canvases into the room covered in exposed brick and large windows that let in natural light. The location was perfect with a dark room for photography, a great sense of community, and more than one great coffee shop less than a block away.

However, her favorite part of the small studio space was the large blank wall that she was currently staring at. The person who had given her the tour a week ago told her, “This is what we call your ‘blank canvas’. Cliché, I know, but it is something we provide in every studio to encourage creative flow. Write on it, paint it, make it a chalkboard for notes, whatever. If you decided to use it, we’ll just paint over it and dock it from your security deposit whenever you decide to leave.”

For the last week, Clarke was under the assumption that she would leave it white for both a clean interior and convenience at not losing some of her deposit. But now she was staring at it with an intensity she didn’t know she still had in her. Without a second thought she peeled off her layers, she began to open her case of paints, dipping brushes into different paints and slashing them in the air towards the wall with abandon.

When she was done, she was doubled over and huffing from exertion. She was half blinded by an overwhelming madness and she was afraid of what she would see when she looked up.

But, nothing could have prepared her for what she saw: a tornado of colors. Arcs of yellow and gashes of red. Flicks of green and flows of blue. The colors came together and separated at different intersections. It was wild and free, lacking any of the inhibition or conservation that had engulfed Clarke for the past two years.

She didn’t notice until now that the abuse –both physical and emotional—that Finn used to bully her into submission had caused her to crawl inside herself. She had withdrawn from living, from herself. And in one quick burst she had released it. Not the pain or the memories of the pain(she doubted those would ever truly leave) but she had let the side of herself that was diminished by hate burst free.

A small smile turned into a wild one and Clarke walked out with that smirk, content with a day’s work.

 

* * *

 

_Four months later._

 

It was a Sunday and Arkers, their new favorite brunch locale, was positively _packed_ . Clarke couldn’t blame the crowds though, the space was amazing. The firehouse turned restaurant/coffee house/bar had it all. Local brews, amazing cocktails, sinfully good coffee, and out of this world food. The interior was beautiful as well: a large, open concept room with hanging plants and Edison bulb lighting dropping the two-floor expanse. A peaked, square skylight let light in while also allowing the rooftop diners to look into the space. A bar ran along the left side of the restaurant and shared tables that _literally_ popped out of the floor during dining hours took up the rest of the first floor space. Clarke and her friends sat on the second floor balcony—the offices turned VIP dining/DJ space—and she couldn’t be happier that the owner was a friend of theirs from BU.

Her name was Eliza but the group had dubbed her Fox and it stuck. She recalled that day vividly, a slight grin on her face.

 _It was freshman year and Clarke, Octavia and Raven were hosting a small pregame in their shared dorm room in preparation for a party at Bellamy’s frat. The unsuspected fluctuation of incoming freshman that year had forced the university to turn some of the common rooms in the dorms into small bunkers. The three of them got lucky when their fourth roommate was caught selling weed in the dorms and was promptly kicked out. They turned the extra space into a makeshift living room by completely debunking the extra bed and setting up a TV and small fridge. Their room quickly became_ the _place in the dorm to hang out._

_That was how they met the shy, withdrawn girl. She was standing off to the side, abandoned by her roommate that had dragged her along for the ride, with a completely full beer in hand and a nervous expression on her face._

_At ten, everyone started to filter out to walk to the party and Clarke noticed the girl was still standing there, unsure of what to do._

_“Hey! Eliza right? You coming?” she asked._

_“Oh you don’t have to invite her.” The roommate that invited the girl along interjected not-so-subtly or quietly in her drunken haze. “Our moms are friends which is why we roomed together and my mom wanted me to bring her along. She’s so quiet and_ mousy _, she won’t be any fun anyways.”_

_Clarke’s stare was morphing into a glare when she glanced back at Eliza to see the small girl beginning to tear up. Clarke quickly walked over to her and looped their arms together._

_“She is not_ mousy. _She’s sly—like a fox. And she’s not petty like you. You know, I don’t think we have any more room in our group for that amount of bitchiness. So good luck finding the house. We’ll see you there, maybe.” Octavia and Raven, the only ones left in the room, burst into giggles. The girl huffed and quite literally stomped her foot, which turned giggles into guffaws, before marching out of the room._

_The still laughing girls grabbed their bags and headed for the door, Clarke closing in on them before she turned around. The girl still had lingering tears in her eyes but she was positively beaming. Clarke couldn’t help but smile back and say, “You coming, Fox?”_

That “mousy” girl was certainly not mousy anymore. From her second floor vantage point, Clarke could see a tall, poised woman sporting a charming smile and an amazing pair of Louboutin’s. Her hair, which had once been long and unmanaged, was cut into a wavy lob. She walked around the restaurant with grace and assurance, stopping by to chat with the regulars and fixing little things such as a server’s collar or a drink’s presentation as she went. She eventually made it up the iron staircase, a renovated replica of the one that was once used by firemen years ago, and she walked over to their table. She sat down in the open, fourth chair.

“How’s the meal ladies? Everything up to snuff?” she asked.

Octavia and Raven, who were ass deep in their food, simply nodded and gave their thumbs up. Fox laughed and Clarke rolled her eyes.

“I can’t take them anywhere, I swear to god. But everything is amazing as per usual, Fox. I don’t know how you do it.” Clarke responded verbally for the three of them.

“And no guys today?”

Octavia cleared her mouth of food with a swig from her mimosa. “Naw, the season is starting up so training is now on Sundays as well. Which means girl time for us!” She raised her glass and the three clinked their mimosas and chanted “girl time” a little too loudly and obnoxiously while Fox laughed at them.

“I heard that they are the first team in the MLB to welcome a female player. Following the success of the female coach in the last few seasons and efforts to make the sport more gender inclusive or something like that.”

“Yeah,” Octavia responded, “And apparently she’s _amazing_. Her batting average…” and at that Clarke zoned out. There was nothing she knew less of than sports. She continued her people watching as the three of them went on about a woman who would eventually turn Clarke’s world upside down.

 

* * *

 

 _Five months later_.

 

The gang was hanging out on the back porch of Raven’s house, the sun shining and the weather was an uncommonly warm 55 degrees for March. Nathan—Miller as he was endearingly called by his teammates— and Bryan were standing at the edge of the lake wrapped around one another laughing as Harper tried to teach Monty how to stand up paddle board. The latter pair were just beginning to date after being in the same friend group since freshman year and everyone was equal parts excited and apprehensive of their new status. Jasper was lounging in the heated infinity pool with his new girlfriend, Maya, and Clarke couldn’t help but think that she had never seen him so happy. The last time she had seen that dopey grin on face, he was quite literally on dope watching Elton John live at Bonnaroo their sophomore year.

Clarke was distracted by the steadily rising voices coming from the grill as Lincoln and Bellamy argued about how long to leave the burgers on.

“Dude, you’re gonna burn them if you leave them on any longer,” Lincoln stated, his voice rising as he continued.

“And you want to kill people with mad cow disease, _dude_. They’re practically still mooing.” Clarke couldn’t help but roll her eyes from under her sunglasses, the doctor in her coming out at that blatant falsehood.

With a huff, Octavia rose from her lounge chair to the left of Clarke and she and Raven watched with excitement as Octavia snatched the spatula from Bellamy’s hand and snapped them both on the backsides of their heads. Clarke couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that escaped her.

“Both of you, shut the fuck up. If either of you had your way with these burgers, none of us would be eating today. Now, kiss and makeup or so help me…” she turned towards the grill, briefly looking back and saying, “oh, and get me a beer for my troubles.” With that, she turned around completely ignoring them, and all you could here were mutters of “those fucking idiots” and “it is not that fucking hard” coming from the direction of the grill.

Clarke and Raven giggled at the dejected expressions of the two errand boys taken down a peg by a woman half their size as they went inside to do as they were told, only looking back once to see a red bikini-clad Octavia doing something they couldn’t do. Clarke lied back down, a small smile still lingering on her lips.

Raven, however, was still sitting up and looking down at Clarke and moved her sunglasses up to the top of her head.

Without moving, Clarke asked “Can I help you?” Raven snorted, and Clarke flipped her sunglasses up and looked at Raven. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, no,” the brunette replied with a chuckle, “You just… you seem better. Not 100%, but you seem to be getting back your old…” pausing to find the right word, “Spunk. You seem to be getting back your old spunk.”

“My old _spunk_?”

“Yeah. Your old _spunk_ . I’ve missed it. I’ve missed _you_.”

“Raven, I’ve been here for five months now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah I do,” she slid her sunglasses back on.

And with an inaudible whisper that Raven almost didn’t catch, “I’ve missed me too.”

 

* * *

 

_Six months later._

 

Clarke was propped on a stool near the pool, a canvas in front of her as she attempted her least proficient medium: landscape. She was trying to capture the green of the trees in contrast to the blue of the sky and water. The little details of birds splashing in the water and definition of the ripples they created were giving her just as much trouble. She sighed, placing her brush down before settling near the pool with her feet in the water. She tilted her head back, absorbing the refreshing spring rays.

A light knocking jolted her out of her reverie and she looked over to see Bellamy standing near one of the glass doors that opened to the deck, two to-go cups of coffee in his hands.

“Hey, Bell,” Clarke said with a smile. Bellamy had been a constant presence in her life in the past six months, always lending his steadfast support and a listening ear should Clarke want to talk. And never without a cup of coffee in hand.

He made his way over to the pool, chucking his Nike’s and socks to the side before settling next to her and handing her a cup of her favorite coffee from Kahve Koffee. She took it with a grateful nod and the two sat in silence for a moment. Bellamy looked past Clarke at the view before taking in her painting, his smile of contentment turning into one of elation.

“Wow, Clarke, that is beautiful,” to which she scoffed and rolled her eyes. Bellamy thought everything she painted was beautiful and Clarke couldn’t decide if it was because of his untrained eye or his unrelenting belief in her. “No, I’m serious. The colors and composition are out of this world.”

Clarke barked out a laugh. “You literally googled art words, didn’t you?” The chuckle, subtle neck rub and faint blush was all she needed for confirmation. “Well thanks anyways, for the effort if nothing else.”

Bellamy let out another laugh and they tapped their coffee together before falling back into their own comfortable silence.

A while later, after some casual chatter and more silence, Bellamy spoke again. “So I didn’t just come here for coffee and to gush over your _beautiful_ painting—which I will be buying off of you one of these days.” Clarke scoffed again but looked over at Bellamy, the sun beginning to set behind him. “I have a huge favor to ask…”

“Okay?”

“Well, we have this event coming up—it’s more of a glorified suck up fest for the donors, owners and sponsors, really—but it’s gonna be a lot of fun. Open bar, good food, the works. Anyways, I was wondering if you would go as my date?”

Before Clarke could get the immediate rejection off of the tip of her tongue—she was a proud homebody after all—Bellamy continued, “Please? O is going with Lincoln and Raven will be out of town for some smart person conference and I would love if you would come.”

“What about that girl, Gina? You two seemed to be getting pretty close.”

“We broke it off. We never saw each other because of her constant travel and my training schedule and we couldn’t justify it with where we were in the relationship. Please, Clarke? I know you hate these things but I would really appreciate the support.” He looked over at her with deep, dark puppy dog eyes and Clarke knew she couldn’t refuse him. Not when support was all he had given her these last few months.

“Ughhh, fine.” She moved to stand, the light too far gone now to get any more work done. She was gathering her supplies and unfinished painting and bringing them inside, Bellamy following with the finished coffee cups. He dropped them in the automated recycling compactor—Raven had completely upgraded this house and made it basically a zero environmental footprint home—before following her back outside to retrieve her easel. “I will be getting you back for this, though. I hate these kinds of things.”

Bellamy, who was standing behind her near the pool, let out a grunt. “Get me back? What does…” he was cut off as Clarke shoved him, clothes and all into the pool. He came up sputtering, a glare set on Clarke as she positively howled with laughter. “Very funny. Ha ha.” He was halfway out of the pool and making his way towards her, Clarke oblivious as she was keeled over with laughter, the easel forgotten on the deck. “Let’s see who’s laughing now!” and he shoved them both into the pool.

That was how Raven found them when she got home, cackling and splashing one another like they had that time they had all snuck into the school pool after one of Bellamy’s team’s wins. And she could swear that was the first time since Clarke had arrived that she had seen her really, truly laugh.

Raven kicked off her shoes and announced her arrival via a cannonball and a loud “Now this is a splash, motherfuckers!”

The three of them stayed there well past the sun setting, acting like carefree teenagers and like nothing had ever changed.

 

* * *

 

Also, if you are like me and love to have visuals, this is kinda how I pictured Raven's house:

 

 

 

And this is Coolidge Corner, if you've never been and wanted to get a smidgen of its vibe. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to comment, lovelies. I would love to continue this story but I'm incredibly busy so any extra encouragement is much appreciated!
> 
> Have a wonderful week!
> 
> xo Jax


	3. Olives and Red Dresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke goes to the party and meets a charming stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this out sooner than expected! I hope you all enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Also my cats are parkour racing around the apartment and onto my laptop every few seconds, so this note legit took me a few minutes to write -_-

“No, no. Not that one. The _red_ one. No that one is too orangey. No, not that one.” Raven’s voice came out of the laptop, her voice reverberating off of the white marble-covered bathroom and it was grating on Clarke’s last nerve. The hunt to find the perfect shade of red lipstick to match her dress had quickly escalated to Raven outright rejecting each option via FaceTime.

 

Raven, who was in Shanghai and therefore 12 hours ahead, was sitting in her hotel room before her meetings “helping” her friends get ready for the party.

 

“RAVEN. Seriously, it’s not that important. Can’t I just wear a nude color and be done with it? Who am I trying to impress anyways?”

 

“No, you can not just wear the _nude_. I have had a vision of you at this party and in this vision you are wearing: a) the perfect red dress (check), b) the perfect killer heels (check) and c) the perfect red lipstick. Which you are currently lacking.”

 

“But, Raven the boys will be here any…”

 

Raven’s “ah-ha” face popped up on the screen and before Clarke could get another word out, Raven shouted, “O!”

 

Octavia’s head popped in from the bedroom, “Yeah?”

 

“Do you still have Ruby Woo in your purse? Now _that_ would be the perfect shade.”

 

“Holy shit, I forgot about it. Give me two seconds!” and she was gone from the room again. Octavia came back in a few moments later, holding the lipstick up and wearing a smug grin. “Here ya go, Princess!”

 

The three girls froze. People didn’t call her that anymore. Not since she had come home. Not since Finn…

 

“Ah, Clarke fuck I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

 

“It’s fine,” Clarke interjected. “I can’t expect you guys to walk on eggshells around me and I need to be strong enough to not let one little nickname affect me so it’s fine. I promise.” A little smile at the end told her friends she was serious. She grabbed the lipstick from O and began applying it in the mirror.

 

“So, do you guys want to hear what my boss said to me?” Raven continued, trying to breeze over any awkwardness. Without waiting for a response, “He said I need to ‘calm down’ and ‘watch my tone’ because I need to be ‘culturally sensitive’. Like, are you fucking kidding me? It is the 21st century for fuck’s sake! And I’m the leader of this new project! So what if I’m a woman, I’m smarter than every asswipe in that fucking room combined and…” Raven continued her rant as she got ready on the other side of the world, and for a moment, Clarke felt like they were getting ready to go out their senior year while Raven ranted about the sexist men in her engineering classes.

 

Ten minutes and at least as many “fucks” from Raven later, the girls said their goodbye as the boys pulled into Raven’s private drive in a limo.

 

From upstairs, Clarke could hear the boys entering and Bellamy’s voice yelling up to them that they were there.

 

“So, how do I look?” Octavia asked with a small spin. The girl, who could usually be seen in varying shades of black and grey, with her dad’s old motorcycle jacket slung over her tiny shoulders during casual days and pantsuits during work, looked like a modern day Cinderella. The ivory color stood out against her tan skin and dark hair, which was curled and pinned into a romantic updo. The dress, high necked and backless, emphasized her athletic physique, while the flowing tulle-like bottom gave her height. Her smokey eye makeup and nude lips drew your gaze to her blue orbs, which popped in the light. Her sole accessories were a pair of simple teardrop diamond earrings, one of the only things her mother left her, and a small clutch.

 

“You look absolutely amazing. I almost feel bad for Lincoln.”

 

“Well you don’t look so bad yourself, hot stuff.” With a slap on Clarke’s ass and a smirk, she began to walk out of the room. “Come on, don’t wanna keep the boys waiting forever.”

 

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said with a turn towards the floor length mirror. The red lace strapless dress was certainly daring, emphasizing her curvy physique while also making her look slim and lean. The slit that went up to her mid thigh added height. Her normally curly hair was straightened and pulled back into a simple ponytail, showing off her strong jawline and collarbones. A gold choker that matched the gold barrette in her hair brought further emphasis to that area. Her simple cat eye and “perfect” red lip completed the look.

 

As Clarke starred herself down in the mirror, she realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt beautiful. She knew, objectively at least, that she was an attractive woman; her hourglass figure and symmetrical face led to her receiving attention from both men and women since she hit puberty. But since Finn started his new job and he started drinking as a result, Clarke had become his emotional and physical punching bag. She lost her self worth and she resented him for it.

  
Clarke closed her eyes. Ten lipsticks that weren’t quite right. Three dresses that she had tried on with Octavia. Five people waiting downstairs for her. She took a final breath and opened her eyes, gave herself a confident nod, and gathered her things to join the group downstairs.

Her heels on the steps alerted everyone to her presence and they all turned as a group to watch her descent. It was oddly reminiscent of a 90’s rom com when the guy is picking up the girl for prom. Bellamy, Lincoln, Miller and Bryan all looked at her in shock and awe, used to the messy bun and sweats she had been sporting constantly in recent months, while Octavia had a proud smirk on her face.

 

Clarke had made it down the stairs, a small smile on her face and Octavia cleared her throat. “Come on boys, pick your jaws off the floor. We have a party to get to!”

 

The group filed out with Bellamy and Clarke last, and without warning Bellamy scooped the blonde into a hug. “I am so _proud_ of you,” he whispered, and Clarke couldn’t help the small grin and tears that began to well in her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 The limo pulled up along the waterfront at the Institute of Contemporary Art. The glass and metal structure stood proud along the water and the event space was a large room with glass on three sides, giving way to a beautiful view of Boston. A bar had been set up along the farthest wall and a stage at the very back. Clarke was taken aback by the entirety of it, from the beautiful attire of its inhabitants to the decor to the lights of the city, she realized how much she actually loved to do things like this.

 

The group, giggling and tipsy from the bottle of champagne they drank in the car, made their way through the crowd to some of the other players.

 

A taller boy with slicked back hair and a Bond-esque suit stepped forward, letting go of his dark-haired date. “Griffin? Is that you? What the hell are you doing here?”

 

“Murphy?” Clarke let go of Bellamy’s arm to pull the man into a hug. John Murphy, one of her classmates from BU and a jackass for almost all intents and purposes, pulled her into a firm embrace. Clarke remembered the first time she met him. He had tried to pick her up at a party, to which she refused, and when he persisted he was quickly drenched in her PJ. It had been the start of a very sarcastic friendship, with him yelling “prissy bitch” and her yelling “fucking asswipe” every time they saw each other. However, the greasy-haired, smirky boy was gone and in front of her stood a confident, suave man. Well, the smirk was still there but you can’t change everything. “I just moved back a few months ago. Who’s the hottie?”

 

“Clarke, I would like you to meet my fiance, Emori.” he said, gesturing towards his date. The woman was beautiful, with tan skin and dark eyes. She stood in stark contrast to Murphy who returned to her side. “Babe, this is my friend from college, Clarke Griffin.”

 

“Clarke,” she said with a grin, holding her hand out to shake. “So you’re the ‘prissy bitch’ who brought my man down a peg in school?”

 

“That I am!” Clarke said, her eyes lighting up. “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who finally got this idiot to settle down.”

 

“I _am_ standing right here!” Murphy interjected, but the two women ignored him.

 

“Yeah, well we all know who wears the pants in this relationship,” to which the group chuckled, Murphy blushed, and Emori gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

 

Clarke moved back to Bellamy’s side and he proceeded to introduce her to some of the other members of the team and their dates. Moving down the line he listed their names: Nyko, Roan, Gustus, Quint, Ryder, and Atom. She shook all of their hands briefly, giving a quick hug to Atom who was in Bellamy’s frat years ago.

 

“Bellamy!” A man spoke over the crowd, and Clarke could only guess it was one of the donors by the look of his smart suit and expensive lapels. He gestured her date over to him with a small wave. Bellamy explained on the way over that he was a poster boy of sorts for the team; as a returned Marine, the team’s publicist had quickly made him into a modern day Captain America.

 

Bellamy grimaced as he turned towards Clarke. “Are you gonna be okay by yourself for a bit? I have some ass kissing to do.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “Go kiss some asses and make mama proud.” Bellamy rolled his eyes before planting a small kiss on her cheek and walked away.

 

Clarke turned, looking for Octavia or someone she knew but realized they had all drifted off into different groups. She decided this was as good a time as any to rectify the fading champagne buzz and began to make her way towards the bar.

 

* * *

  

Lexa was bored. She was too sober, too anxious, and too _bored_ . She could be training right now. Hell, anything would be better than _another_ highly publicized event that she had no desire to attend. Leaning against the end of the bar, scotch in hand, she scanned the crowd for something of interest. And then she saw her.

 

At first it was a flash of red moving between the monochromatic black suits that overtook the space.

 

Then it was the body in the dress, which complimented the stranger in every right way. Her hips sashaying gently, her smooth arm holding a clutch in front of her, her cleavage in the strapless dress leaving much to be desired, a slit showing off her toned leg.

 

Then it was her hair, blonde and golden like sunlight, glistening in the space as she flipped in over her shoulder.

 

Then her lips, a shade of red that Lexa could only describe as sinful, going into a upturn as she bypassed a group of people.

 

Finally, her eyes. They were a shade of blue that brought Lexa’s entire world into focus.

 

And Lexa quite literally lost her breath.

 

She hadn’t realized how hard she was staring until the girl was a few stools down, leaning against the bar waiting for the bartender to notice her, and Lexa returned her gaze to the crowd.

 

A slightly husky voice, deeper than she imagined the blonde could have, broke through her reverie, “You look even more bored than I am. Who dragged you here?”

 

Lexa turned her head, an expression of confusion resting on her face. How did the girl not know who she was? She had been on every talk show and sports magazine available for the past month at the insistence of her publicist. Besides, the party they were at was practically in her honor and she was pretty sure there was at least a few posters with her face on it scattered throughout the room. Lexa smoothed her expression, a small smirk picking up the corners of her lips, “I’m just here for the open bar,” and she lifted her drink in a small salute.

 

“I think you’ve got the right idea,” she responded before turning to the approaching bartender. Lexa couldn’t help checking out the curve of the woman’s ass as she leaned farther over to place her order. As the woman turned back around, Lexa averted her gaze again to the crowd and the two stood in silence for a moment waiting for the blonde’s drink. She could feel the girl’s eyes tracing her body and she did her best to conceal her smirk with her scotch. She knew she looked good. The jet black suit, with fitted pants and a well-tailored jacket, were specifically made for her. Her white button up was undone at the top revealing her slim décolletage and her hair, pulled over her shoulder in waves, exhibited her strong jawline.

 

The bartender returned with the drink and a compliment for the blonde that made Lexa want to roll her eyes. As she turned back to her she looked down at the drink. A martini filled with five olives. Lexa couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped her. “So, you like olives I see?”

 

The blonde was staring at her for a moment, before scrunching her nose in the cutest way. “What? Why would you say that?”

 

Lexa merely gestured down to the drink.

 

A dawn of realization hit the girl as a red the color of her dress began to overtake her cheeks.  “Oh, no. I mean, yes. Well. I like them soaked in gin but that’s basically it,” she said, as she popped one into her mouth for show.

 

Lexa couldn’t tear her eyes away from the girl’s insatiable mouth.

 

“On pizza?”

 

“Oh god no”

 

“In any kind of food?”

 

Another nose scrunch. “Never. I can taste it the second I bite into something if there is a hint of olive inside.”

 

Lexa chuckled and turned back towards the crowd.

 

“So how did you get in here, if you don’t mind me asking. From what I could gather, this is a pretty exclusive event.” Lexa turned back and noticed the woman now resided directly next to her and couldn’t ignore the electricity that ran up her body at their proximity.

 

“Let’s just say I know the guest of honor.” Another smirk.

 

Lexa saw John Henry, owner of the team, begin his ascent to the stage. She turned back towards the blonde, providing her hand to shake. “It was a pleasure to meet you…”

 

“Clarke.” the blonde supplied, taking the offered hand.

 

“Clarke.” Lexa smiled. She liked the girl’s name and how it rolled off her tongue only to click at the end. She could swear she saw her shiver slightly.

 

A voice in the background echoed over the speaker system. “... has worked so incredibly hard to get here. Her resilience, tenacity, strength, and perseverance has brought her to this point and has inspired young women across the country. We at the Boston Red Sox are excited for her to be joining our team. Ladies, Gentlemen and Everyone in between, please put your hands together for Lexa Woods!”

  
Lexa released the hand she hadn’t realized she was still holding and made her way towards the stage amidst the applause. Clarke’s gaze following her the entire way.

 

* * *

  

Clarke watched her walk off in a daze. She watched this strange woman with her irresistible smirk and her killer jaw and endlessly long legs strut off towards the stage. The crowd parted for her with ease and a spotlight from somewhere on the back wall followed her journey.

 

 _Lexa Woods_.  

 

That was her name. She liked how it sounded, there was something safe in its simplicity. Clarke couldn’t recall meeting someone so enticing. She practically drank Clarke in with her gaze.

 

As Lexa began her speech, Clarke scooped up her drink and made her way towards the back door and eventually the part of the museum with the art. The halls were dark and empty besides the security guard who was wandering around. The two began walking in the same direction and Clarke learned his name was Charles. He worked at the Boys and Girl’s club during the day and at the museum on weekends and some evenings. They bonded over their mutual love of art the entire lap around the museum.

 

“Would you like to see them?” Charles asked.

 

“See what? The art?”

 

“Yeah, I could turn on the exhibit lights for you if you’d like.”

 

“You would do that?”

 

“Anything for a fellow art enthusiast,” he assured with a kind smile.

 

“Charles, I think you are my new favorite person!”

 

Charles gave a chuckle. “Give me just a minute,” and with that he walked away and Clarke made her way over to the first exhibit.

 

It was breathtaking. The first exhibit she entered was an audiovisual presentation that Clarke interpreted as the stages of existence, the colors and music changing with the mood of each stage. Birth. Life. Death. She stayed the entire time, completely enraptured.

 

When the presentation was over, she stood to leave and almost jumped out of her skin with a shriek. Standing in the doorway, that memorable smirk on her face, stood Lexa.

 

“Was my speech boring you?” Lexa asked. That goddamn smirk would be the death of her.

 

“The entire event was boring me, if we’re being completely honest.” Clarke responded, attempting to mimic the smirk.

 

Lexa took a few steps in, inching closer to Clarke, a feline-like grace in her gait. Clarke couldn’t ignore the quickening of her heart at their shrinking proximity. “Yeah, it’s not really my scene either. I…”

 

“Clarke, are you okay?” Charles burst into the room, taser out and ready. Clarke and Lexa immediately jumped a foot back from one another, acting like teenagers caught together in the act.

 

“Yeah… yeah Charles, I’m fine. Thanks for checking on me,” responded with a small smile and a blush.

 

Charles couldn’t help his chuckle, “Okay, Clarke. Give me a holler if ya need me.” He left the room with a chuckle and a shake of his head. Clarke and Lexa could hear him walking away and muttering “Ah, to be young.”

 

Clarke shook her head as well before facing Lexa again, “Sooo… Lexa,” Clarke tried to ignore how the corners of Lexa’s lifted when she said her name. “Since it looks like we’re both ditching _your_ party, wanna look at the next exhibit with me?”

 

Lexa had absolutely no interest in the art but she was interested in the strange, beautiful girl in the red dress. “Sure, lead the way.”

 

Clarke wandered out of the room to the next exhibit. It was a collection of works by local artists, meant to give them exposure and cultivate art in the city. Clarke stopped at the first piece titled _Dr. Melissa Doft, Plastic Surgeon 1_ by Lucy Kim. Lexa came to a stop next to her. It was a large piece, a hybrid between a sculpture and a painting, depicting an Asian woman in doctor’s scrubs lost in a sea of identical faces, all covered in the same scrubs. Even the woman’s multiple faces were covered in that same color, as though she were drowning in them. Clarke couldn’t help but relate to the stranger; when she was working at the hospital in San Francisco, she always felt like she was drowning in her work.

 

Lexa’s voice jolted her out of her reverie, “So what does this piece mean?”

 

“Well it depicts a woman, a surgeon if the title is any indication, that is utterly consumed by her work. But she is distraught. She is making a difference but she doesn’t feel that way. She feels like any difference she does make is getting swallowed up by the grand scheme of things, she along with it. And there is no escaping it. As a woman of color in a male-dominated field—as a person trying to do her best—she doesn’t see a way out but she doesn’t know if she wants it. At least that’s my take, but everyone’s is different.” Clarke looked over at Lexa, expecting her to be inspecting the work. Instead, she was staring at Clarke as though she were the only piece of art in the entire exhibit. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” she replied, shaking her head as though to pull herself out of a reverie, “I just… I like hearing you talk about art. What about this one?” she asked, gesturing to the next one.

 

They continued in that manner, stopping at each piece of art while Clarke gave her thoughts, describing the use of artistic medium and the emotion behind each work, while Lexa listened. Clarke couldn’t help but notice that Lexa stared at her, rather than the art, the entire time.

 

And Clarke also couldn’t help but notice that a smile didn’t leave her face the entire time.

 

* * *

 

“That’s it.” Clarke said, regretting that there wasn’t any other art to look at. “I guess we should get back…”

 

“Do you want to see the roof?” Lexa blurted, blushing at her sudden outburst. “There’s a beautiful view of the city up there.”

 

“Are we allowed to?” Clarke asked apprehensively.

 

“Sure,” Lexa responded, her signature smirk once again gracing her face. “I mean, I am the guest of honor and all that.”

 

Before she knew what she was doing, Clarke nodded and said, “Sure, sounds like fun.”

 

They made their way to the roof and Lexa hadn’t lied; the view was incredible. Clarke was entranced by the lights shining off of the water, a few boats in the bay were lit up looking like lanterns shining out from the dark.

 

“Wow, it’s incredible.”

 

“Yeah. It really is.” Lexa responded. Her eyes still had not left Clarke’s face, lit up by the city lights in the distance.

 

“You know,” Clarke said playfully, “The view is over _there_ ,” gesturing towards the city.

 

“I don’t know, my view is pretty great from where I’m standing.” She took a step closer and Clarke’s skin prickled.

 

“Well aren’t you just a modern day Shakespeare,” she replied with a smirk and a small push to Lexa’s shoulder.

 

Lexa let out a light laugh and Clarke thought it sounded more like music than anything. “You could say that.”

 

Clarke gave her another smile before returning her gaze to the city. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine.

 

“Shit you must be freezing.”

 

And before Clarke could object, Lexa had stripped herself of her jacket and wrapped it around the blonde’s shoulders, stopping with her hands on her shoulders.

 

“You don’t have to…” Lexa’s firm look stopped her. “Thank you.”

 

“You are very much welcome.” Lexa smirked before stepping back and facing the view.

 

After a few moments of silence, Clarke looked at Lexa. “So you’re kind of a big deal aren’t you?”

 

“I don’t know about that,” Lexa said, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of her neck.

 

“I do,” Clarke replied, “Well kind of. My friends were talking about you over brunch. Apparently you’re the first woman in the MLB? That’s huge.” Clarke smiled as Lexa prayed that it was dark enough that the blonde couldn’t see her blush.

 

“It’s not that big of a deal, honestly.” Lexa couldn’t stop the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach knowing this beautiful woman was impressed by her accomplishments. “Since you apparently know so much about me, tell me a bit about yourself. You know everything under the sun about art, are you an artist yourself?”

 

Now it was Clarke’s turn to blush. “No, I mean I wanted to be one for a while but I decided to switch to medicine instead. I’m a doctor. Or, I was in San Francisco.”

 

Lexa sensed Clarke discomfort, but brushed over it. “You’re from San Francisco?”

 

“Yes and no,” she let out an uneasy laugh. “I’m from here originally but I moved out there after graduating med school. I just moved back six months ago.”

 

“Why did you move back? Miss all of the snow?” Lexa asked jokingly.

 

“No.” There wasn’t an ounce of mirth in her face. “It was… it was just the right decision at the time.”

 

“Okay.” Lexa stopped her mini interrogation, clearly Clarke wasn’t comfortable talking about her past. She glanced down at her watch and realized they had been gone from the party for a couple hours. “We should probably get back, it’s getting late.”

 

Clarke simply nodded, engulfed in her thoughts and her counting.

 

They made their way back to the party, which was dwindling down as it approached midnight. Bellamy spotted them as they walked in, confused as to why they were together and Clarke had Lexa’s jacket. He made his way over to the couple, who were standing several feet apart in silence.

 

“Hey, Clarke! Woods,” he nodded at Lexa. Bellamy was worried, he could sense the tense mood as he got closer. “I looked for you everywhere. Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, Bell. We just took a lap around the exhibits.” Clarke said, forcing a small smile onto her face.

 

“You’re girlfriend is incredibly knowledgeable about art, Blake. You should keep this one around.” Lexa said somewhat aggressively. Why was she jealous? She had no reason to be.

 

“Oh, Clarke isn’t my girlfriend,” Bellamy responded, noting the weight that seemed to be lifted off of his teammate’s shoulders. “She was simply kind enough to accompany me tonight so I wouldn’t be stuck with all of these asshats in suits. Before ditching me, _might I add_.” Bellamy gave Clarke a playful nudge and her small, half smile was given in return.

 

“Sorry, Bell. You know this isn’t really my scene.” Clarke stepped away from Lexa to stand next to Bellamy. “You ready to head out? I’m beat.”

 

“Yeah, let me just grab the others. Give me a sec,” he wandered off, but not before glancing over his shoulder at the two girls who couldn’t take their eyes off of one another.

 

“I had a really nice time,” Lexa started.

 

“Better than the party?” Clarke asked cheekily, some of her playful mood returning.

 

“Much,” her smirk also returning.

 

Bellamy was returning with Octavia and the others. “You ready, Clarke?”

 

“Yeah.” She returned her gaze to Lexa, not quite ready to say goodbye. “Well it was nice to meet you I guess. I’ll see you around?”

 

“Yeah,” Lexa replied, not ready to say goodbye either.

 

Clarke started making her way towards the door with her friends.

 

“Clarke?” Lexa called.

 

Clarke turned around, a question in her eyes.

 

“My jacket?”

 

Clarke blushed, sweeping the jacket off of her shoulders and handing it back to Lexa.

 

“Thanks.”

 

And they both knew it was for more than the jacket.

 

* * *

 

Also, here's some pictures of the dresses I drew inspiration from. Clothes are hard to describe!

Octavia:

Clarke:

 

Oh, and the event space and the link for the first piece. If you are ever in Boston, check out the museum! The work is beautiful and the view is amazing!

https://www.icaboston.org/exhibitions/2017-james-and-audrey-foster-prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you all had lovely weeks. What are your weekend plans? Comment down below and let me know! I am juggling a weekend of work and a project for my Machine Design class (kill meeee) but I might try to squeeze in a night of going out. Oh, and brunch with the fam on Sunday--if nothing else kills me, that probably will. 
> 
> Any comments or criticisms are welcomed! As always, have a lovely weekend.
> 
> xo Jax
> 
> P.S. If anyone celebrates Easter, a happy one of those to you all!


	4. A Not So Accidental Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sunday following the party, Lexa accidentally runs into Lincoln and Bellamy, Clarke accidentally gets dragged to brunch by Raven, and the two accidentally(or not so accidentally) see each other again.

The sounds of thunder overtook the batting range as Lexa hit ball after ball as hard as she could. It was 8 am the Sunday after the party and Lexa was determined to forget a certain blonde-haired, red clad beauty who had haunted her dreams the past two nights.

 

Lexa wasn’t one for commitment or infatuation. Recently, her longest relationships lasted the night she met the woman and the morning after when she called them a cab from her townhouse. She didn’t call them later, even though they insisted, and she didn’t get attached. It was easier for her since everything with Costia.

 

It was easier to be detached after losing the love of your life.

 

_Crack._

 

Another hit sent a ball flying. A flash of red took over her vision.

 

 _Crack_.

 

Why was this happening now? When her career was taking off?

 

 _Crack_.

 

I need to stay focused. I worked too hard to get to where I am.

 

_Crack._

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, Lexa was still hitting ball after ball, thoroughly exhausting herself.

 

“Hey, Woods!”

 

Lexa jumped back, turning with her hand up to block the early morning sun coming into the practice range. Lincoln and Bellamy were walking up, bats swung over their shoulders, a speaker in Bellamy’s right hand.

 

“You know we were given the morning off, right?” Lincoln asked.

 

“I could say the same for you,” she responded, making her way over to the pitching machine to turn it off for a bit. She should probably rest anyways.

 

“No rest for the wicked, am I right?” Bellamy said cheekily. He put the speaker down and began blasting the new Kendrick Lamar album. _So much for peace and quiet_.

 

Lexa walked over to join them outside of the cage, gratefully accepting the offered water with a nod.

 

“You mind if I take a few hits?” Lincoln asked.

 

“Go for it, I’ve been going nonstop since eight.”

 

“Of course you have,” Lincoln replied with a chuckle.

 

“So why are you guys here?” Lexa asked.

 

“Octavia got called in…” Lincoln replied, pausing during hits, “for a new case.”

 

“Raven is sleeping off Shanghai and everyone else is too hungover to function this morning,” Bellamy supplied with a chuckle.

 

“Octavia said…” a pause, “that if she had to work…” a pause, “we should have to as well.” Lincoln said between hits.

 

“So here we are,” Bellamy finished for him again.

 

“What about your friend, Clarke?” Lexa tried to ask in her most nonchalant voice. She couldn’t even get herself to look at Bellamy. However, she could still see his smirk out of the corner of her eye.

 

“She’s working in her studio over in Coolidge Corner this morning,” Bellamy replied, trying his best to keep a smile off of his face.

 

“I thought she mentioned that she wasn’t an artist?” she asked, her nonchalance giving way to her interest in the blonde.

 

“Clarke is too modest to say she is, but her work is amazing. In my opinion, she should have done it all along.”

 

Lexa turned towards Bellamy, her curiosity completely taking over. “Why did she decide to switch to medicine, then?”

 

Bellamy was smiling at her, but there was a mixture of confusion and wariness in his eyes. Confusion because Lexa clearly knew more about his friend than he assumed. Wariness because Clarke’s safety and happiness were his first priorities, and the entire team knew Lexa’s propensity for one night stands.  “I think that’s a question you should ask her.” He took a step towards Lexa before continuing, “Look, Woods. I don’t know what you’re intentions are with Clarke, but she’s been hurt in the past. Badly. She’s not ready to deal with the fallout if you’re looking for a one night stand or something casual. And I’m not prepared to see her fall apart.”

 

Lexa was tempted to brush it off, to ignore her draw to the blonde and play it off as temporary interest or insanity(whichever would be easier). For whatever reason, though, Lexa decided that she shouldn’t-- couldn’t -- lie. To herself or Bellamy. “I don’t know if anything is going on or what intentions I have. I just know that I haven’t felt this way about someone since Cos… in a very long time.”

 

Bellamy stared for a moment, processing her words. “Okay, Woods,” his smile started to return, “Well if it counts for anything, Clarke asked about you last night on the way home.”

 

“She did?! What did she…” Lexa started, her excitement growing. Lexa coughed, turning to watch Lincoln. “I mean, that’s awesome.”

 

Bellamy couldn’t hide his amused chuckle at the excited reaction of his normally stoic teammate.

 

“I was gonna work on my pitching. Wanna come hit for me?” Lexa asked, her way of brushing over any further Clarke talk.

 

* * *

 

 

Three hours later, Lexa, Bellamy, and Lincoln could be seen running a three man drill on the pitch. The pitcher would throw the ball to whoever was batting before replacing them, the batter would get his ball and throw it back to the outfielder-turned-pitcher before replacing them in the outfield. It was an exhausting, circular drill that they ran at max speed until they were interrupted by two figures standing in the bleachers cheering after Lexa hit the ball over the fence.

 

Lexa turned, wiping the sweat off her brow, to see Anya, her cousin and sister for all intents and purposes, clapping slowly and her ward, Aden, clapping with vigor. She put her hands up in a T-formation, signalling for a break. She noticed both Lincoln and Bellamy collapse where they stood, barely keeping up with Lexa as it was. Lexa ran over to the edge of the pitch, as close as she could get to her makeshift family, a subconscious smile appearing on her face.

 

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.

 

“I know you’re a big, hotshot Red Sox player now,” Anya returned, a smirk on her face. “But did you seriously forget that you were gonna treat us to brunch?”

 

Lexa glanced down at her team-supplied FitBit and realized it was almost noon. “Shit!” she glanced up to see Anya’s face full of exasperation, her hands covering the ears of a giggling Aden. “I mean… shiitake mushrooms! That’s what I want for brunch!”

 

Aden laughed again. “You want mushrooms for brunch?”

 

“Well, with it at least,” Lexa replied with a chuckle. “When did you become such a smarta… smart kid, anyways?”

 

“Lexa, seriously?” Anya said, rolling her eyes. “Just get in the shower and meet us out front in 20. We’re starved!” She walked them away without waiting for a response.

 

Lexa turned around, jogging towards the boys who had joined at the pitcher’s mound and were guzzling water like they had lived in the desert for the past six months.

 

“Hey, guys. I’ve got to go, I made plans for brunch.”

 

“Where are you guys going?” Lincoln asked.

 

“I have no idea…”

 

“Hey, you should go to Arkers! It’s insanely busy for brunch but everyone is tied up so our table should be free. If not, we’re friends with the owner so she should be able to squeeze you in if I call in a favor.” Bellamy suggested.

 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”

 

“Yeah, of course! It is not to be missed. You get ready, I’ll give her a call and let her know you’re coming in!” Bellamy grinned. Lexa remembered that when she first met Bellamy, she kind of hated him. He came off as arrogant and prideful. He was the poster boy for the team and Lexa thought that this self knowledge dripped off of him. She realized now that while he was cocky--with good reason, considering how well he played-- he was also kind, generous and protective of those he loved.

 

“Thanks, Blake. I really appreciate it.” Lexa said and began to back away. “I owe ya!” she threw over her shoulder.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind!” he shouted towards her receding figure. He turned back towards Lincoln “So now that we don’t have something to prove to the Commander, wanna grab a beer at that new brewery over in Brighton?”

  
Lincoln chuckled at the new nickname everyone had taken to calling their newest teammate. “I thought you'd never ask.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke was sitting in her studio in front of a duo of large, nude pieces that she was currently working on. The male in one was all harsh lines and shadows. The figure, depicted mostly from behind and arching backwards as though about to fall and his entire body tense in anticipation, was reaching out with his right hand as if grasping for someone or something to catch him. In the shadows, you could make out his strong jaw and hard muscles. Meanwhile in the other piece, a woman was also close to falling but wasn’t reaching for anything; rather, she seemed to be giving herself to the fall. While her counterpart was all harsh lines and strength, she was soft and supple. While he fought for traction, she let go completely. Clarke hoped to juxtapose external strength with internal strength and aptly titled the pair _The Strength in Letting Go_.

 

She put her brush down and moved toward her phone to change the song. Just as she picked it up, a picture of Raven dressed as Frida Kahlo from a few Halloweens ago popped up on her phone, signalling an incoming call from the dark-haired girl. Clarke picked up. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping off your jet lag?” Raven had come in late the night before with the energy of a living corpse.

 

“I can’t sleeeeeep,” she whined back. “Can we go to brunch then brewery hop? Drunk me doesn’t care what Jetlagged me wants and will pass right out!”

 

“Do we have to Raven? I’m at the studio and covered in paint. I’m not exactly in brunch attire.”

 

“I’ll come pick you up and bring a change of clothes! I have to test drive and give feedback on a new electric motorcycle that we are releasing in a year anyways. It’ll be good to see how it handles two people.”

 

“Um, no.” Clarke responded quickly. “You looked like you could have been cast in Fear of the Walking Dead last night. There is no way in hell I am letting you cart me around on an untested motorcycle.”

 

“It’s not untested--” Raven stopped, as though feeling Clarke’s sternly, motherly glare through the phone. “Ugh, fine. I technically have the driver they sent to pick me up from the airport until midnight tonight anyways. I’ll have him drive us for the day, deal?”

 

Clarke didn’t want to have a driver all day--it seemed unnecessarily frivolous in her opinion--but it was definitely a safer option than Raven driving. “Deal.”

 

Before Clarke could say anything else, Raven interjected, “Great! I already have your clothes and the driver is on his way! I’ll see you in 30!” before promptly hanging up.

  
Clarke shook her head and began mentally preparing herself for Raven and her relentless energy. But _You Make My Dreams_ by Hall and Oates began playing over her speakers and Clarke had a feeling it was going to be a good day.

 

* * *

 

 

Fox was making another lap around her restaurant, pinning down small mistakes and shaking hands with some of her regulars.

 

“Hey, Fox!” her head bartender, Zoe Monroe, got her attention over the buzz of the restaurant. “You’ve got a call from Bellamy on your personal phone.” she continued, holding the iPhone up.

 

Fox walked over, nodding at Monroe in thanks, before putting the phone up to her ear. “Hey Bell!”

 

“What’s up, Fox?” Bellamy asked. “So I have a favor to ask. I’m sending one of my teammate’s to your place with her family. Any chance you can give them our usual table?”

 

“Is this the new female player that everyone has been chattering about?”

 

“The one and the same!”

 

“How many people is she bringing?” Fox asked. She made her way over to the computer that managed seating and looked over her front desk manager, Roma’s, shoulder to look at their availability. They were already on a 45 minute wait.

 

“Just two!” Bellamy responded. Fox rolled her eyes. _Just fucking two my ass_.

 

“Well Raven just called and her and Clarke are coming now. Something about needing 10 mimosas and my famous truffle fries before she could sleep.”

 

“Actually just put them together at our usual table and blame it on how busy it is or something.”

 

Fox noted the mischievous tone in Bellamy’s voice, but went ahead and blocked off a six top on the roof. Her friend’s usual table had already been given away when she thought they weren’t coming. “First of all, it _is_ that busy. I have a 45 minute wait with even more people pouring in now.” Fox paused to rub the spot that hurt between her eyebrows whenever she was starting to get stressed or annoyed. Right now she was both. She should just let her friends wait like everyone else, maybe then they would understand the stress she deals with every weekend and would stop obliviously taking advantage of her kindness. “Second of all, what are you up to? You sound like you did that time on that camping trip when you suggested we put Murphy and his blowup mattress out onto the middle of the lake. _Naked_ , might I remind you.”

 

Roma looked up at Fox like she was insane and Bellamy could be heard guffawing through the phone. “Ah, that was a good one,” he finally managed through his chuckles. “And you’ll see when they show up. Trust me, it’ll be good for them.”

 

“Good for who?”

 

She could hear his smirk through the phone. “You’ll see.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lexa was standing in line at Arkers with Aden and Anya. The place was packed and she heard people mumbling as they walked outside with buzzers that the wait was over an hour now. She prayed to God that Bellamy had come through.

 

When they made it towards the front of the line, Lexa took a step towards the front to speak to the manager.

 

“Welcome to Arkers! Do you have a reservation?”

 

“Hi. And we don’t but my friend Bellamy called and said he could get us a table?” Lexa responded tentatively.

 

Just then, a woman who was standing at one of the tables closer to the entrance turned around. She excused herself, walking towards the front with a professional smile. “You must be Lexa?” Lexa nodded and she continued. “I’m Fox, owner of this restaurant. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held her hand out and they shook. “I actually have a table getting set up for you right now. It’s pretty packed in here so you’ll be sharing the table with some regulars, is that okay?”

 

“That’s just fine,” Lexa said, clearly relieved that they were getting a table at all.

 

“Perfect! If you just want to wait near the bar, I’ll come grab you personally when the rest of the party arrives.”

 

Lexa nodded and they made their way towards the bar. She thought she heard Fox say, “Let me know when Clarke and Raven arrive.” to the other woman but she was probably just imagining things.

 

They stood there for a few minutes and ordered two bloody Mary’s and an orange juice while they waited, catching up on the previous week’s events. Lexa purposely left out her meeting with the strange, beautiful blonde from Friday night. As Lexa turned towards the windows laughing at something Aden was telling her, she saw a sleek black town car pull up to the front of the building. As she was about to dismiss it, the back door was opened and a long, pale leg stepped out.

 

Clarke was wearing a simple white sundress and jean jacket, looking like a living reincarnation of spring. Her hair was in curls in a messy bun atop her head, tendrils flying out in the wind, with a pair of aviators propped in it and her face seemed bare of any makeup besides some mascara. Lexa thought she looked even more beautiful than the first night she met her and didn’t doubt this vision would replace the one with the red dress. She saw another, darker skinned woman step out behind her, wearing high waisted, light washed jean shorts and a cropped sweater. Lexa concluded that this must be Raven.

 

They walked in, bypassing the line, and immediately went up to hug the woman who was working the front. Clarke positively beamed when taking the woman into a casual embrace and seemed to be asking her a question. Clarke laughed at the response, throwing her head back, and Lexa could hear it like melodic church bells on a Sunday morning. It took everything in her to turn back around.

 

“Lexa?” Fox asked and Lexa turned around to see the three of them staring at her; Fox with a kind expression, Raven with an amused smirk, and Clarke with pleasant surprise.

 

Lexa only had eyes for the blonde, lost in orbs the color of a spring sky after a storm. “Hey, how have you been?”

 

Clarke was still in shock, but smiled nonetheless. “I’m good! What about yourself?”

 

“Good,” Lexa responded with a smile. _Better now that you’re here_ , she wanted to add.

 

Lexa was still mentally kicking herself for the thought when Anya butted in. “Hey Lexa, who’re your friends?”

 

“Oh, sorry! That was rude of me. Anya, Aden. These are Bellamy and Lincoln’s friends, Clarke and I’m guessing Raven?”

 

Raven held out her hand, first to Anya then to Lexa. “And you must be Lexa. I’ve heard _so_ much about you,” Raven said, a smug look still on her face, referring to the text barrage she had received from Octavia telling her about the attractive woman in a suit that Clarke had disappeared for hours with at the party on Friday before returning wrapped in said woman’s jacket.

 

“All good things I hope,” Lexa replied a smirk. She could see Clarke’s eyes zero in on her lips for a second before returning her gaze to Lexa’s eyes. Lexa’s smirk turned into a full blown smile at that.

 

“Only the best, I assure you.”

 

Fox was watching this entire interaction with a knowing smile. _Bellamy, you tricky little shit_. “Well ladies,” she looked down at Aden with a smile, “and gentleman. If you will all follow me this way, your table awaits.”

 

They beelined between the tables towards the elevator at the very back. Lexa heard Clarke whisper to Raven, “Did you know about this?”

 

“Bell texted and said that we were gonna sit with one of his teammates and their friends but I didn’t know who,” Raven whispered back, shooting Lexa a smirk over her shoulder. “This is gonna be so much more _fun_ though, don’t you think?”

 

Lexa could almost feel Clarke roll her eyes from behind.

 

When they made it to the roof, Lexa was blown away. The roof itself was beautifully done. A bar stood on a platform near the elevator and a long, rectangular area was roped off for corhole. The skylight, which came up in a triangular prism, took up the very center of the room and let rooftop diners look into the space below. The view, however, was what drove the nail home. You could see most of the North End from their vantage point. It’s trademark Bostonian brick buildings were standing tall in the sunlight. Fox lead them to a wooden table, catty corner to the elevator and near the edge overlooking the street, and set their menus down.

“Here you go, you’re usual table was taken so I hope this works.”

 

“It’s perfect, Fox. Thanks for squeezing us in,” Clarke said, giving Fox a hug. She was probably the only one who showed how grateful she was and it reminded Fox why Clarke was her favorite of the group.

  
“Anytime, Clarke! I’ll be back when things settle down.” And with that she walked away, Bellamy’s words about it being good for them running through her head.

 

* * *

 

 

They settled in, Lexa, Aden and Anya on one side and Clarke and Raven on the other. They ordered a pitcher of mimosas for the table--which Raven claimed were necessary for any brunch at Arkers-- and a virgin one for Aden, as well as an order of truffle fries to start. They browsed the menu, Lexa asking Clarke and Raven for suggestions. Clarke swore up and down that the Eggs Bostonian--an Eggs Benedict with locally sourced crab instead of canadian bacon--was by far the best thing on the menu. Meanwhile, Raven promised to the heavens that the deconstructed breakfast burger--complete with guacamole, bacon, and a fried egg-- was not to be missed.

 

Lexa ordered the Eggs Bostonian per Clarke’s suggestion--which was not missed by either Raven or Anya--Clarke ordered the same, Raven ordered her burger, Anya ordered the quiche of the day, and Aden ordered the chicken and waffles(another staple, according to Raven).

 

Once their food was in, Aden perked up when he noticed that the cornhole boards were free. “Can we play?” he asked, gesturing towards the game.

 

“You think you can win, kid?” Raven challenged in jest. “Come on, let’s see what you’ve got!”

 

“I’m coming with,” Anya interjected, “You seem like the kind to throw a bean bag in a kid’s face to win.”

 

“I would _never_ ,” Raven’s voice full of indignation. _She totally would_ , Clarke couldn’t help but think. Raven was the smartest person she knew but she could also be the most immature. “Fine, mom. You can watch but no helping. This is between me and him,” she finished, pointing between her and Aden.

 

Raven and Aden bolted towards the boards so no one else could get them first, Anya following with an eye roll and a mimosa in hand.  

 

Clarke’s eyes followed them with a smile and when she turned back to Lexa, the brunette was wearing a similar grin directed towards her. Clarke’s face warmed in a blush but decided to overlook it. “So Bellamy called in a favor for you?”

 

Lexa seemed to shake herself out of a reverie when she was addressed. “Yeah, I ran into him at the practice fields and he insisted we come here.”

 

“You guys were practicing today?” Clarke asked, confused. “I thought Bell said that today’s practice was cancelled because of Friday’s thing?”

 

“It was. I like going in on off days because of the quiet. The guys are so loud the rest of the time.”

 

“Sounds exhausting,” Clarke said sympathetically. Lexa was caught off by the genuine tone in those two words. It felt more real than any condolence she had ever received.

 

“It can be. But I’m used to it.”

 

“How so?” Clarke asked, her face scrunching in the way that Lexa lov--liked so much. _Just liked_.

 

“I played in high school and college on men’s teams since they only offered softball for women. You think two guys with a speaker that magically only plays rap music is exhausting? Try a locker room full of twenty prepubescent boys who don’t think you can keep up. Now _that_ is exhausting.”

 

“Oh, God. How did you deal?”

 

“Simple,” Lexa said with a serious smirk and a swig of her mimosa. “I got better than them.”

 

Clarke laughed. Not the polite laugh she used the night they first met. But the laugh she used with the woman downstairs. A completely uninhibited, head back sort of laugh that made Lexa’s heart swell.

 

“And I guess you now being with the Red Sox is the big, ole ‘fuck you’ cherry on top?”

 

“You have no idea,” Lexa couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face.

 

Just then, a simultaneously loud “YES” and “NO” came from the direction of the cornhole boards and the entire rooftop turned to see Aden jumping up and down, two fists in the air in triumph, while Raven fell to her knees in defeat. Clarke could see an eerily familiar smirk on Anya’s face as she watched the scene.

 

“You cheated somehow, you little turd!” Raven shouted. A few of the people on the roof who recognized Raven laughed and one even shouted, “Come on Raven, don’t be a sore loser!” to which she responded, “Shut up, Nate!”

 

Aden smirked as well, mimicking Anya’s position by crossing his arms and spreading his legs a bit. “Fine, Raven. Best two out of three. But if _I_ win, you have to buy me dessert.”

 

“And if I win you have to--” she stopped, looked around, and gestured for him to come closer. She whispered the rest into his ear and they both wore matching, shit eating grins when they turned their gaze over to Clarke and Lexa.

 

“Oh no,” Clarke said, “What do you think she said to him?”

 

“I have _no_ idea. How evil is Raven?”

 

“She’s the devil incarnate,” Clarke sighed, dropping her head into her crossed arms on the table.

 

“Well I guess we’ll just have to pray Aden wins,” Lexa said with a laugh at the dejected expression popping out of Clarke’s arms.

 

“I guess you’re right,” Clarke sighed again. “He seems like a good kid. Is he Anya’s?”

 

Lexa paused for a moment, wondering how much she should reveal. “No, he’s mine.” Clarke’s stunned face urged her to continue more quickly. “I mean, he’s not technically mine. Like, I didn’t have him or anything like that. But he is in my care. Although, I feel like he sees Anya more than he sees me at this point with how much I’ve been training.” Lexa’s eyes moved back towards the game in time to see Anya giving Aden a high five at his most recent throw.

 

A hand on her arm forced her gaze back to the woman in front of her and she saw Clarke’s face had softened from shock to understanding and support. “Lexa, he’s happy and healthy. And incredibly good at cornhole, from what I can tell.” Lexa smiled at that and Clarke did to. “There isn’t much more you can ask for when it comes to kids.”

 

Everything about Clarke was soothing. From her reassuring hand to her body language to her calming blue eyes that had Lexa floating out to sea. _Hell, even her hair is fucking calming_. “Thanks.” Lexa laid her hand on top of Clarke’s, neither capable of looking away in that moment.

 

Another shout from Raven caused the two women to jump apart.

 

“So,” Clarke cleared her throat. She hadn’t realized until now, with the sun shining, how purely, superbly green Lexa’s eyes were. It was the type of green she could only pray to mimic with her paints. “So is Anya your…?”

 

“She’s my cousin,” Clarke’s body visibly loosened. “She helps with him a lot, though.”

 

Clarke merely nodded, watching the game with a small smile.

 

“You know,” Lexa continued, “Anya is actually an art dealer. She does a lot of work with different galleries across the city--and the country for that matter--as well as a few high profile private buyers. You should talk to her about potentially getting some of your work out there.”

 

“I told you, I’m not an artist.” Clarke’s faced blanked.

 

“Bellamy said you would say that. He said you’re modest and…”

 

“I’m _not_ an artist,” Clarke interrupted. “I just dabble a bit.”

 

Lexa was surprised by the 180 in Clarke’s demeanor took. One moment she was smiling and laughing and comforting, the next she was shut down and withdrawn. “Hey,” she encouraged Clarke’s gaze up to her softly with her voice, “I’m not saying you have to. It was just an idea.”

 

Clarke looked down at her hands, then back up to Lexa’s impossibly green orbs. “No, I’m sorry. That was an incredibly inappropriate response, especially when you were just trying to be a good friend.” (The word “friend” hit Lexa like a ton of bricks in the heart, but she ignored it.) “I’ve just… someone close to me had told be that my art would never amount to anything. That it wasn’t worth it to even consider art as a viable option for me.”

 

It was Lexa’s turn to place a hand on Clarke’s arm. “I haven’t seen your art, Clarke. But if it is anything like you, I’m positive that it’s absolutely _incredible_ .” Her voice flooded Clarke’s senses, soothing her like black coffee on a cool, autumn morning. _That voice could calm the wildest storm_.

 

Clarke smiled and Lexa thought for a moment that she saw tears welling in Clarke’s eyes before the blonde put her sunglasses on with her available hand. Said hand landed atop Lexa’s, mirroring their earlier position. “Thank you, Lexa. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

 

The two of them continued in silence, never releasing their contact with one another. And neither noticed Anya’s knowing gaze on them the entire time.

 

* * *

 

 

The food finally arrived and the rest of the group returned; Aden wearing his victory on his sleeve and Raven looking a mixture of dejected at her loss and excited at the anticipation of food. Fox stopped by once to see if everything came out okay and left when they proceeded to devour all of the food in sight. Aden went ahead and put in his order of beignets with chocolate sauce with a cheeky “it’ll be on her tab” and a nod towards Raven.

 

Anya decided that she had never had a better quiche in her life and Lexa claimed that if she could only eat one thing for rest of her’s, the Eggs Bostonian would be it.

 

Clarke laughed at that and Lexa couldn’t ignore how her smile came unbidden in response.

 

Clarke took a final bite and a swig of mimosa, before addressing Raven and Aden. “So, I take it Aden won and we don’t have to worry about whatever vindictive plan you two hatched up?”

 

Raven smirked at her friend. “Well, Anya said that we were acting like children and--”

 

“No, I said _you_ were acting like a child,” Anya interrupted with an eyeroll. “Aden is a child. You on the other hand, have no such excuse.”

 

“Fine, _fine_. I was acting like a child. So Anya made us compromise. We both get what we would have wanted, no matter who won.”

 

Clarke’s eyes widened. “And what exactly was the bet?”

 

This time, Aden answered. “Raven said that I have to force Lexa and Anya to go on a pub crawl with you guys by, and I quote, ‘any means necessary.’”

 

It was Lexa’s turn to be surprised. “And how do you think you are gonna accomplish that, little man?”

 

“I would start by telling you that I have finished all of my homework and reminding you that you said I could go to my friend Bryant’s today if I did. So you two have the afternoon off.” Aden had a self satisfied smirk on his face, a mannerism no doubt inherited from Lexa.

 

“And if that doesn’t work?” Anya asked amusedly.

 

“Well if logic doesn’t work, I suppose I would play to your emotions. You know, puppy dog eyes, telling you both that you need to have more fun, saying it would be for all of our goods if you guys took a day off… Well?”

 

Lexa couldn’t help but wonder when the kid had gotten so smart. He was only ten, but he had the wisdom and capacity for learning of someone twice his age. Ever since his mother had passed, he lost so much of what made him a kid and Lexa mourned that loss as much as the other. “Okay, okay. You can go. Final question, though.” Lexa said seriously, leaning both elbows onto the table.

 

Aden leaned in as well. “Shoot.”

 

“Is this Bryant B. or Bryant G?”

 

“Bryant G. The one with the laser tag birthday. Not the one that farts and laughs every time.” Aden’s nose scrunched a little and Lexa wondered when that little expression had begun to remind her solely of Clarke.

 

“Alright then, you can go.”

 

“And you’ll go ‘pub crawling?’”

 

“Yes, we’ll go.” Lexa turned to Clarke, a question in her eyes. “That is, if it’s okay with you?” Lexa didn’t want to intrude if Clarke didn’t want her there, though she sincerely hoped that the invitation stood. Anything to spend more time with the blonde enigma.

 

Clarke positively beamed and Lexa could almost feel her eyes shining through her aviators. “I would like that.”

 

Raven jumped up. “Alright, it’s settled then! Let’s go!”

 

“Raven?”

 

“Yes, Clarke?” she asked impatiently.

 

“We haven’t paid yet…” Clarke trailed off, staring at her sleep-deprived friend with a mixture of worry and amusement.

 

Raven sat back down, looking disgruntled. “Well where is our waiter then? I’m ready to drink!”

 

Clarke was tempted to remind Raven that they had been drinking for the past two hours but she settled on shooting Lexa an amused grin and giving Raven a compassionate pat on her arm.

 

Just then, _You Make My Dreams_ began playing over the restaurant speakers and Clarke couldn’t help her content grin. _It is definitely gonna be a good day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday, friends! I hope everyone had a lovely weekend. 
> 
> Comments are welcomed and critiques are encouraged. Hope you guys enjoyed! 
> 
> xo Jax


	5. Bar Hopping and Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Anya join Clarke and the others for bar hopping after brunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am so sorry this took so long to be published. My roommate gave me the flu and I have basically been down for the count since last Wednesday. This is more of a filler chapter than anything but I hope y'all enjoy!

“Raven! I can’t believe you did that!” Clarke yelled and slapped Raven’s arm, and both bounced off of the walls of the town car. “What were you thinking inviting Lexa and Anya? Do they know Lincoln and Bell will be there? Do Linc and Bell know they’re coming?”

 

“Chill, it’s for your own good!” Raven insisted, rubbing her hit arm. “I’ll let everyone who needs to know, know. Besides, her cousin is kind of super hot. In a scary, intimidating sort of way. I mean…” Raven trailed off.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You mean this is so you can spend more time with Anya?”

 

Raven snapped back. “Okay, yes. It is also, sort of, for me to.” Clarke went to say “I told you so” but Raven held a hand up to stop her. “ _But_ , this will be good for you. Interacting with people outside of our little group, making friends that don’t know about your past; I think it’ll help you move on. Babe, I just want to see you happy.”

 

“I am happy.” Clarke replied, looking down as if caught doing something she shouldn’t.

 

“Clarke. You are content. And that can be fine for a while. But life is too short to be spent stagnant. You _deserve_ to be happy, Clarke. You deserve mind blowing, all-encompassing happiness that leaves you weak at the knees. And whether that is with someone or by simply allowing yourself to open up to happiness, I will support you no matter what.”

 

Before Raven realized it, she was wrapped up in a tight hug. “Thanks, Ray. I really, _truly_ appreciate you.” Raven could hear the unshed tears in Clarke’s voice so she relaxed into the embrace and pulled the blonde in completely.

 

When they pulled away, Raven could see remnants of tears in Clarke’s eyes, making them look even more blue than before, but the blonde was wearing a smile. “I am calling bullshit on your little speech, though.” Clarke put two fingers up on each hand, effectively making an air-quote motion. “‘I will support you no matter what,’ I mean _come on_.”

 

“Hey, my speech worked, okay? You are gonna go out and actually _do things with people_. I deserve a medal or something.”

 

Clarke looped her arm through Raven’s and curled up next to her. “Yeah, a medal for biggest idiot,” Clarke teased with a nudge to Raven’s right rib cage.

 

Raven merely snorted and the two fell into momentary silence when Raven’s phone dinged. When she picked it up, Clarke saw from her vantage point on Raven’s shoulder that it was a message from Anya saying, “We just dropped Aden off. We’ll be there in 30!”

 

“YOU GOT HER NUMBER ALREADY?!” and the sound of the smack on Raven’s arm could be heard once again reverberating off of the walls.

 

* * *

  

“Should we go home to change? Do I look too casual for something like this?” Anya looked up and down Lexa’s body from the passenger seat. She was wearing ripped, light wash boyfriend jeans with a black belt, a grey sweater tucked in, and a washed out plaid button down wrapped around her waist. Her face was fresh and hair was curling with abandon from her shower earlier.

 

“You look great. And from the way Clarke was checking you out earlier, I would say she agrees.” Anya relied with a smirk, noticing the flush that began to take over the other girl’s cheeks.

 

Lexa merely mumbled, “She did not check me out.”

 

Anya laughed and with her most condescending tone said, “Uh-huh. Okay, sweetie. Whatever you say.”

 

Just then, Anya’s phone buzzed and Anya read the text. “So apparently Bellamy and Lincoln are gonna be there too.”

 

“Shit, really?”

 

“Yeah. What’s up?”

 

“You know I have a rule about being friends with the my teammates. It makes things much too messy having a personal relationship with them.”

 

“Well, Lexa. You are going to have to make a decision then. Would you rather cancel on seeing Clarke or break one of your little rules just this once.” Anya knew the answer but she wanted to hear Lexa say it out loud.

 

Lexa paused for a moment, as if actually considering her options so she didn’t seem too eager. “Fine, fine. Let’s go.”

 

Anya simply smiled and turned to face forward once again. Just as she was getting lost in her people watching, Lexa interrupted her.

 

“Wait, how did you know Bellamy and Lincoln would be there?”

Anya merely looked over with a mischievous grin and shrugged her shoulders before looking back out the window.

  
“Seriously, you got her number _already_?!”

 

* * *

 

 Their first stop was over in Brighton at a bar called the Polis. Bellamy and Lincoln had moved to the group’s old favorite after deciding the new one they tried was too trendy. They had found it when Bellamy was back from training for two weeks and decided to go outside of their comfort zones to somewhere new. It was a hole in the wall but the beer was great, the pool was free, and there was an amazing patio area in back. That was where Raven and Clarke found the boys when they arrived, lounging in the sun with beers in hand and talking to some girls a table over.

 

“Hey guys!” Raven called, moving to put her two beers down and Clarke followed with her two.

 

Bellamy leaned forward, reaching for the beer closest to him. “Aw, thanks guys! You didn’t have to…”

 

“We didn’t.” Clarke said, swatting Bellamy’s hand away. “Raven was an idiot and invited Lexa and her cousin to join us. So I’m making her buy our first round.”

 

Lincoln chuckled but his face morphed from one of mirth into one of confusion. “Wait, Lexa and Anya are coming?”

 

Clarke turned around towards Raven, arms crossed and wearing her best “mom” face. “You didn’t tell them?”

 

“I _said_ I’d tell who needed to know, know. I didn’t think they needed to know. Besides, Bellamy was the one who made sure that we all sat at the same table at brunch.” Raven defended, hands up.

 

Clarke’s glare moved towards the older Blake, who was also holding his hands up in surrender as well. “I just suggested Fox put you together because it was busy and so last minute! You should really be mad at Raven, she was the one who invited them here!”

 

Clarke sat in her chair defeated and pulled her beer closer. Clarke sighed, “Ugh, you two are impossible,” and took a swig.

 

And that was what Lexa and Anya walked in on. A sighing Clarke, a chuckling Lincoln, and a defensive Raven and Bellamy with their hands up.

 

Anya spoke first, “I feel like we missed something amazing…”

 

Clarke, who’s back was to them, whipped around quickly. She couldn’t wrap her mind around how much she missed Lexa’s presence when the brunette wasn’t there. It wasn’t as if she missed Lexa when they were apart, but she craved her company when she was near. It was like coming up for air and not realizing how much you craved the oxygen until it flooded your system again.

 

Blue found green and both smiled subconsciously. “You’re early.”

 

Clarke’s voice, huskier than usual from yelling at Raven in the car, washed over Lexa and filled her senses. She walked forward and sat next to Clarke. “Yeah, the traffic wasn’t as bad as usual.” Lexa seemed to realize that others were there and tore her gaze away from the blonde. “Hey guys.”

 

“Hey, Woods,” and “What’s up” came from the other side of the table.

 

She reciprocated with a nod. “You guys remember my cousin, Anya?”

 

“Yeah, it’s good to see you again,” Lincoln said, offering his hand to shake.

 

“You too! Lincoln right? And Bellamy?” Anya shook both boys’ hands before sitting down next to Raven. “Thanks for getting us in at Arker, the food was phenomenal.”

 

“I’m glad we could help,” Bellamy smiled.

 

“Here,” Clarke said, pushing the two beers over to Lexa and Anya, “Compliments of Raven.”

 

“Thanks, Raven,” Lexa said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

 

Raven mumbled under breath, rubbing her bruised arm, “Don’t mention it.”

 

Anya eyed Raven curiously but didn’t ask. “So… How did you guys find this place? It’s kind of a hole in the wall…”

 

Bellamy and Raven proceeded to explain and each take credit for the different steps that led them to the bar, from deciding to try a new place to daring the other to go into the somewhat sketchy bar, while Clarke gently corrected them for only Lexa to hear.

 

The wild tale led to them talking about other crazy adventures they had had over the years. Like the time they went on a camping trip and put Murphy and his blow up mattress on the lake at 3 am because he was the first to go to sleep. Or the time they snuck onto campus and went skinny dipping in the pool after Bellamy’s team won. Or the time Raven got them out of a speeding ticket after she fixed the cop’s car when she heard it making a strange noise. Or the time Octavia and Clarke conned two idiots out of $250 during a game of pool.

 

Lexa nodded and smiled, unused to people with such crazy antics or wild stories. It wasn’t until they told the story about how Clarke crowd surfed topless at Bonnaroo after climbing on stage during the Arctic Monkey’s set and flashed the lead singer that she interrupted.

 

“You _what_?” Her face a mixture of respect and surprise.

 

Clarke blushed and glared at Raven, who had a mischievous smirk on her face.

 

“It was a long time ago,” Clarke blushed into her beer.

 

“Not that long ago,” Bellamy chuckled, “Our Clarkey here used to be quite the party animal. She could even drink me under the table.”

 

“Though, if we’re being honest, that’s not the hardest thing to do.” Raven said with a smirk.

 

“Hey!” Bellamy exclaimed and the entire table burst into laughter.

 

Bellamy and Raven relayed a few more stories until the group eventually broke off into different conversations: Anya and Raven talking about Raven’s job, Bellamy and Lincoln talking to the girls at the next table over again, and Clarke and Lexa talking about the upcoming season.

 

“So when’s your first game?” Clarke asked.

 

Lexa wondered when she would no longer be surprised by how genuine Clarke always was. Whether it was concern or curiosity, Clarke seemed to give her whole self to everything and everyone.

 

“Its this Friday. We are playing the Yankees.”

 

“And is it home or away?”

 

“Home. You should come, if you want. I don’t know if you would be interested in something like that but…”

 

“No, I would love that,” Clarke said with a reassuring smile. “I might not know a thing that’s going on but I’d like to be there to support you.”

 

Lexa could only smile at that. When she looked into the bar, she saw one of the pool tables was vacated. “Hey, do you wanna play a game of pool? It sounds like you were quite the shark back in the day.”

 

“Is that a challenge, Woods?” Clarke said, her voice lowering an octave. Lexa did her best to conceal her shiver.

 

“Sure is, Griffin,” Lexa replied, her signature smirk taking over her lips, and held out her hand. “Loser buys the next round?”

 

“Deal,” Clarke shook her hand and stood, leading them into the dim bar.

 

Clarke went to rack up while Lexa grabbed two cues off of the wall, handing one to Clarke when she was done.

 

“You want to break?” Lexa asked.

 

“Sure,” Clarke replied with a knowing smirk, walking over to the other end of the table and snatching up the cue ball before placing it slightly off center.

 

Lexa watched as Clarke leaned over the table, carefully positioning her cue, and she couldn’t help but admire the blonde’s form. She moved the stick back and forth slowly and Lexa felt a warmth in the pit of her stomach that she did her best to ignore. With a solid strike, Clarke sent the cue ball whizzing into the others. The balls reverberated off of one another and the green striped ball went into the back, left corner pocket.

 

“I guess I’m stripes,” Clarke said with a smirk, moving around the table to the cue ball. Lexa watched as Clarke made ball after ball in, calling them before making each shot and Lexa was in awe.

 

Leaning on her cue and watching Clarke lining up her third shot, Lexa asked, “So, tell me something interesting about you.”

 

“Something interesting?”

 

“Yeah something unique to you. Like your weird taste in olives.” Lexa replied with a small laugh.

 

“Hmm… Well I don’t have a favorite color. Does that count? Some people think it’s a little weird.”

 

“Sure, that counts. Why don’t you have a favorite color?”

 

“I think every color is beautiful in its own way. It doesn’t feel fair to choose just one.”

 

“Well do you have a least favorite color?” Lexa’s mirth was shining in her eyes.

 

“I would have to say tangerine. Every time I use it in a painting it always comes off too bright and overpowers the others. Nine, back, right corner.” Clarke called, making her third shot.

 

“Seriously? If I’d known you were this good at pool I wouldn’t have bet beers on this game!”

 

Clarke threw her head back in a laugh and Lexa silently promised herself that she would always try her best to make the blonde laugh like that.

 

“O and I used to swindle so many guys out of drinks back in college. I used to feel bad until I realized they were all sexist asses who didn’t think they could possibly lose to two girls. Thirteen, side pocket.” Clarke said with a smirk, hopping the cue over one ball and making another into the side closest to Lexa.

 

“Sounds like you used to be quite the wild child, Griffin. What happened?” Lexa asked jokingly. Clarke’s smile dropped a little and Lexa immediately regretted asking. Lexa walked over to Clarke’s side, putting a hand on her wrist. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Clarke.”

 

Clarke turned towards Lexa, as if trying to decide whether to reveal a part of herself to the brunette. She sighed, making a decision, and leaned against the pool table. Lexa mimicked her. “No, it’s okay. Right before senior year started, a group of us went on a camping trip for a weekend. We promised to head down the mountain once to check in with parents and whatnot, but we were too drunk and high to bother. Anyways, when we finally got back down the mountain, I got a barrage of messages from my mom telling me to call her as soon as possible. My dad was in an accident--a drunk driver had hit him when he was driving home from work that Friday an hour after we had gotten into the mountains. He was in the ICU for a day before he died of internal bleeding and he was unconscious the whole time, but I never got to say goodbye.” Clarke’s eyes were beginning to well with tears as she neared the end of her story.

 

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa didn’t know what to say. No words of comfort or condolence could ever truly help when losing someone so close (She would know). So Lexa did what Anya had done for her, she wrapped Clarke in a tight hug. “I am _so_ sorry. That kind of pain in unimaginable.”

 

“Thanks, Lexa,” Clarke replied with a small smile, hoping her words truly conveyed her gratefulness. Most people looked at Clarke with pity or judgement, but Lexa looked at her with empathy and Clarke could not have been more appreciative of that. “I’m okay, it was a long time ago. Now, how about we finish this game? I need a new beer.”

 

“How about I go get those now. I have a feeling I’m going to lose anyways,” Lexa said with a smile.

 

“You said it, not me,” Clarke said with a laugh as she got back into position in front of the cue.

 

Lexa walked away, shaking her head.

 

When she returned with the beers, Clarke was landing the final eight ball into the back corner. She turned around, a triumphant grin on her face. “Game!” and she promptly took her beer from Lexa, cheersed the frozen girl, and took a swig.

 

“You couldn’t have gone a little easy on me? I didn’t even get to go!” Lexa pouted.

 

“If there is one thing you need to learn about me, Lexa, it’s that I never, _ever_ hold back.” Clarke said, grinning from ear to ear in the most playful of manners. “Besides, I think I like seeing you pout,” she continued, her eyes bouncing between green eyes and swollen lips.

 

And before Lexa could process or respond, Clarke turned around and sauntered towards the patio. _This woman is going to be the death of me_ , Lexa thought, and followed Clarke back outside.

 

* * *

 

**[4:03 pm] Octavia:** _ So, how’s it going? _

 

**[4:04 pm] Raven:** _ Good, Anya is fucking hot. And so into me, might I add. _

 

**[4:04 pm] Octavia:** _ I meant with Clarke and Lexa…  _

 

**[4:05 pm] Octavia:** _ I am v happy 4 you tho. It’s about time you got laid ;). _

 

**[4:07 pm] Raven:** _ I hate you. -_- Things seem to be going well, they’re playing pool rn. _

 

**[4:08 pm] Octavia:** _ Did you at least warn Lexa about her game? _

 

**[4:08 pm] Raven:** _ And what fun would that be? _

 

**[4:09 pm] Octavia:** _ Ur an ass _ .

 

**[4:09 pm] Raven:** _ With a cute ass, I know. _

 

**[4:10 pm] Octavia:** _ stfu Raven. _

 

**[4:10 pm] Octavia:** _ Looks like the car is stopping. I’ll ttyl. Say hi to everyone for me. _

 

**[4:10 pm] Raven:** _ Good luck, sweet cheeks. _

 

* * *

 

 Raven saw Clarke sauntering over, a winning grin spread across her face.

“I’m guessing you won?” Raven asked, although it didn’t really need asking.

“I didn’t even let her go,” Clarke’s grin grew.

“That’s my bitch!” Raven exclaimed, giving Clarke a high five.

She saw Lexa making her way over next, head down as if avoiding the smirking table’s knowing looks.

Anya made the first move, jabbing Lexa gently in the rib. “So, how’d it go?”

“You know how it went,” Lexa snapped jokingly, “You guys couldn’t have warned me?”

“And what fun would that have been?” Raven smirked over her glass. “By the way, Octavia says hi to everyone!”

At that, Lincoln perked up. “Did she land okay? Are they somewhere safe?”

“From what I gathered, everything is fine. But she can only tell us so much, as you know.” Raven gave Lincoln a sympathetic smile.

Anya butted in, “Who’s Octavia? You mentioned her earlier too.”

This time Bellamy answered. “She’s my sister. And Lincoln’s girlfriend. And the other third of the Three Musketeers,” he finished, gesturing to Clarke and Raven, who saluted at the same time before falling into a bout of giggles.

“What does she do? If you don’t mind me asking,” Lexa questioned. She had met Octavia a few times when she watched a game or practice, but had never really thought of her past that. “You said this morning that she had work?”

“She works for the FBI,” Lincoln said with a proud smile. “Specifically the counterintelligence division.”

“That’s… impressive.” Lexa couldn’t reconcile the woman in the white dress from the ball with this new fact about her. “Has she been there long?”

“About three years now,” Bellamy replied, his pride also showing brightly on his face. “She is one of the fastest rising agents in her division.”

“That’s incredible,” Anya said with a smile, “I’ll have to meet her someday.”

“I’m sure you will,” Raven smiled back. “Now who’s ready for the next bar? I’m ready to kick some ass in DDR.”

“Oh no, you aren’t thinking of taking us to The Thirteenth Station are you? I haven’t been there since we were undergrads.” Clarke complained with a moan.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m thinking of! You might be the Queen of Pool, but I know for a fact that you have two left feet. I think it’s time we brought you down a peg, Clarkey.”

“I’m down,” Lexa said with a smirk directed at Clarke, to which the blonde rolled her eyes.

“Awesome! Now everybody down their drinks, the driver will be up front any minute!”

 

* * *

 

 They pulled up to the barcade--a large brick building-- with Lincoln in front, Lexa and Anya on the back-facing seat, and Clarke, Bellamy and Raven squeezed into the back. They made their way inside and Lexa and Anya were impressed. From Pac Man to Galactica, every retro game imaginable was crammed into the space. What was even more impressive was the modern games it also had--like Guitar Hero and Dance Dance Revolution--as well as the many vintage pinball machines lining the side wall. Even the walls were covered in look-a-likes of the classic game characters, with Mario and Princess Peach guiding you to the bathroom and Dig Dug leading you towards the bar.

 

As they moved further in towards the bar at the center of the room, Clarke saw some familiar people at one of the the old fight games. “Monty? Jasper?” Monty looked up in response and Jasper quickly KO’ed him with a triumphant shout. Monty merely rolled his eyes and punched Jasper lightly in the arm before making his way over to Clarke and the others.

 

“Hey, Clarke!” Monty said first and gave her a hug before repeating the process with Raven and Bellamy. Jasper followed the procession and both shook Lincoln’s hand in their manliest manners, still slightly intimidated by Octavia’s new boyfriend.

 

“Monty, Jasper, this is Lexa and Anya. Lexa plays with the Red Sox with Linc and Bell and Anya is her cousin.” Clarke introduced.

 

“Oh you’re the new pitcher, right?” Monty asked, his interest spiking. “Would you mind if I picked your brain? The physics behind pitching is fascinating to me.”

 

“Sure?” Lexa responded uncertainly.

 

Monty dragged Lexa away talking a mile a minute and when she looked back to Clarke for help, the blonde simply shrugged and smiled. She couldn’t place why she was so happy that Lexa was integrating into the group so well but she was happy nonetheless.

 

“So Jaz, I like what you’ve done with the place!” Raven said with a smile.

 

“Yeah? The paintings aren’t too psychedelic are they? I was definitely tripping when I had the idea to put them up…” Jasper said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“I think they suit the place--and you--perfectly,” Clarke responded with an encouraging smile.

 

Jasper had bought the place from the previous owner a few years before. He and Monty used to spend many a night here when they were in school and when the owner decided to retire, he didn’t know a better person to sell to then his favorite customer.

 

“Well let’s stop standing around and get you guys some drinks!” Jasper exclaimed, leading the group towards the bar. “We’ve started to do $1 mimosas on Sundays if you’re interested or we have a flight of local beers for $6 if that’s more your fancy.”

 

Clarke was proud of him, more than she could say without making him brush it off or simply run away. Jasper _hated_ school, the only real reason he went was because his dad had forced him to and he didn’t want to lose the last connection he had had to his mom. A year after graduating and working a job he had no interest in, his father had passed away. Jasper used the money he had gotten to buy the bar and now here he was, a successful--incredibly so, if the amount of people were any indication--business owner.

 

Orders went around and the group ended up with their drinks: Lincoln, Bellamy, and Anya with their flights and Clarke and Raven had their mimosas. Before any of them could get money out, Jasper stopped them with a hand and red solo cups filled with gold coins. “It’s on the house, guys. And here are some tokens for the games, go wild!”

 

Clarke looked to other side of the bar to see Monty still talking Lexa’s ear off.

 

“Hey, Jaz?” Clarke asked and Jasper turned back around from talking to one of the bartenders. “Could I also get a pint of whatever IPA you have on tap?”

 

Jasper followed Clarke’s gaze to the brunette who was trying to keep up with Monty’s rant about arc and distance and smiled. “Sure thing, Clarke.”

 

When she got the beer, she made her way around the bar to Lexa and Monty before standing in between them. “Mind if I cut in, Monty?”

 

“Sure thing, Clarke. I have a feeling Lexa was losing interest anyways.” Monty said with a chuckle before walking away to join the others.

 

“Thanks,” Lexa let out a breath. “Your friend is on a level all his own.”

 

“Not a problem,” Clarke said, lifting the beer and placing it in front of Lexa.

 

“What’s this for?” she eyed the blonde suspiciously.

 

“For the game of Dance Dance Revolution I will inevitably lose.” Clarke said, raising her glass to cheers. She pulled the cup of coins from where she had held it between her elbow and her ribs. “Want to give it a go?”

 

“Sure, Clarke,” Lexa said with a smile, “Lead the way.”

 

They made their way over to the DDR game and Clarke lost. Badly. Lexa couldn’t have imagined how right Raven was when she said that Clarke had two left feet; it was as if the blonde didn’t even know right from left. They moved to play Skee-ball, which of course Lexa was amazingly good at, before settling at one end of the bar to people watch.

 

“Thanks, Clarke,” Lexa said after a moment of silence.

 

“For what?” the surprise evident in her tone.

 

“For this,” Lexa gestured around. “I can’t remember the last time I just hung out with friends and drank for an afternoon. It was nice.”

 

“I’m glad you could come,” Clarke said smiling. She looked around the room to see Anya and Raven laughing over air hockey, Lincoln and Bellamy trying to one up each other at Guitar Hero, and Monty talking with Jasper, who was behind the bar. Everyone seemed happy and it warmed Clarke’s heart.

 

The group stayed there for another hour before the boys and Lexa said it was time to call it a night because of early practice the next morning.

 

Raven and Clarke bid the others goodbye at their cars and made their way home.

  
And with Raven finally passed out on Clarke’s lap in the back of the town car and the faint sounds of music playing over the speakers, Clarke realized that she had been wearing a smile for the past few hours. And _it was nice_.

 

* * *

 

Here's some pictures of the outfits and the second bar that they went to!

 

Clarke: 

Lexa: 

Raven:

 

 

Bar:

       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, hope everyone's weekends were amazing. Comments, questions and critiques are always encouraged. xo Jax
> 
> P.S. I probably won't get another chapter out until the beginning of next week because of finals. Good luck if you are going through them too!


	6. All is Fair in Love and Baseball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke opens up, the group goes to the game and a question is asked.

Hues of blue and green were melting together in her current work as the Wednesday, afternoon sun shone through the window and it was making Clarke go cross eyed with how hard she was staring. Two female arms were reaching up lazily, as if relaxing after a morning stretch, with the bottom unfinished. She was planning to have a female head facing away from the viewer but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. The entire work was light colors and soft strokes and Clarke couldn’t ignore the sense of peace that had settled within her since Sunday and that was now emulating in her most recent work. Something was still missing though and Clarke was determined to find out what it was.

 

A knock at the door broke her from her reverie and she turned to see a travel-worn Octavia in a wrinkled blouse and slacks with her blazer thrown over her arm and a bag at her side standing in the doorway. The artists had begun leaving their doors open much like one would in dorms freshman year of college to encourage open creative flow and camaraderie.

 

Clarke burst into a grin. “O!” she exclaimed before quickly making her way over to her friend and engulfing her in a hug. “When did you get back?”

 

“Hey, Clarke!” Octavia smiled, “I got back about an hour ago but they gave me the rest of the day off. You seem chipper?”

 

“No more than usual.”

 

Octavia raised a brow at her but said nothing to that. “You up for a break? I’m craving food that doesn’t come out of a take out box.”

 

“Sure,” Clarke said, “Give me five minutes.” Clarke put her paints away and cleaned her brushes before collecting her bag and made her way towards the door and Octavia with a small skip. “I found this amazing place around the corner that has the best Korean sandwiches I have ever eaten.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Octavia said and she couldn’t hide her smile when Clarke grabbed her hand and dragged her along. _No more chipper than usual, my ass_.

 

They made their way down the street and two more blocks over before Clarke stopped in from of a graffiti-covered food truck called KoKyu standing on the street. In front of it were a few pastel-colored round metal tables and matching chairs.

 

Clarke walked up to the window first. “Hey, Han!” A young Korean man with a fade on the sides of his head, a chambray button-up, about five earrings in each ear and double that in tattoos on his arms stuck his head out of the window.

 

“Clarke!” Han said, reaching his hand down to fist bump Clarke’s. “I was wondering when I was gonna see you this week! Thought you were getting tired of me.”

 

Clarke laughed. “I could never do that, Han. I’m going to marry your food one day if it's ever legalized.”

 

“And not me? I’m hurt,” Han said, clutching his chest. “You getting the usual?”

 

“Always,” Clarke said with a roll of her eyes, “Oh, Han. This is my friend…”

 

Han stuck his hand out to Octavia, effectively interrupting Clarke. “Octavia, right? The FBI agent with the heart of gold? I can tell by the pantsuit and by the fact that you are not Raven. I don’t usually like authorities around here but Clarke said you’re a good egg. How's it going with Lincoln?”

 

Octavia shook his hand after shooting Clarke a _why-the-fuck-does-this-guy-know-my-life_ look. “That’s right, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And good?”

 

“Glad to hear,” he said cheekily, “And what would you like?”

 

“Whatever the chef recommends?”

 

“I have just the thing! Grab whatever you want out of the cooler, I’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready.” and Han disappeared back into the truck.

 

Clarke grabbed them each a water and they sat at the table with the most sunlight. It was relatively warm for April but a little more sunlight never hurt.

 

“So how often do you come here that that man basically knows my entire life?” Octavia said with a playful smile.

 

Clarke blushed and looked down at her drink. “Only once or twice a week! I usually come during quieter hours so Han and I talk a lot.”

 

“He’s pretty cute,” Octavia said, still smirking. “We should set him up with Raven or something.”

 

“First of all, those two argue like cats and dogs. Second of all, Han’s boyfriend is one of the artists in my building. He’s the one who turned me on to the food and I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate that very much.” Clarke said with another eye roll.

 

“Raven met your future spouse before I did?” Octavia teased, referring to the food. “I’m offended.” to she received a shove to her shoulder.

 

“So how was your trip? Did everything go alright?”

  
“Same old, same old. Some anarchist nerd living in their mom’s basement decided to hack into national security files.”

 

Han came out then, two plastic trays filled to the brim with food in his hands. “Here ya go, ladies! One Milanesa with extra crispy pork for the artist in resident and one Belly Banh for the FBI beauty with the heart of gold.”

 

“Thanks, Han! It looks amazing!” Clarke said as she and Octavia reached for her wallet.

 

“Nah, ladies. This one’s on the house. Just promise you’ll come to Alec’s gallery opening next month.”

 

Clarke gave Han a grateful nod and a smile. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

 

Octavia took a picture for Instagram (which earned her an eye roll from Clarke) before they dug in. The next ten minutes were filled with vaguely inappropriate moaning from Octavia and giggles in between bites from Clarke.

 

“Seriously, Clarke! You should just live here, this is amazing.” Octavia said as another moan came from her side of the table.

 

“I tried to tell you,” Clarke said with a laugh.

 

Octavia ate the last bite of her sandwich with a satisfied pop. And when her elbows landed on the table and an intent stare landed her eating partner, Clarke knew she was either a)in trouble, b)in for a lecture, or c)both. “So, talk to me babe. What’s going on with Lexa? And don’t you dare try to tell me nothing. I was kept updated on Sunday’s activities by Raven.”

 

Clarke silently cursed and promised to give Raven a few choice words when she saw her that night.

 

“There really isn’t anything to report, O. Lexa seems nice but I’m not really in any place for a relationship right now. And it doesn’t seem like she is either.”

 

“Really? Because Raven said you two were staring at each other with more guilt-filled intent than I have when watching Keeping up with the Kardashians. Raven also said that you’ve been smiling more since you two met last Friday than you have in the last month and I have to agree. You literally skipped towards me earlier. Like Dorothy on the yellow brick road, Easter bunny dropping off eggs, 5-year-old girl on her birthday _skipped_.”

 

“Fine, _fine,_ ” Clarke said, her hands up in defeat. “Do you want to hear that I really like her? That she’s beautiful and understanding and funny and makes me feel like I have a chance to be happy again? That the world seems a little brighter and the air a little lighter when she’s next to me? And that even though I’ve only known her for a week, I feel like I’ve known her a lifetime and I finally feel safe again? Is that really what you want to hear?”

 

Octavia stared at Clarke in shock before her mouth morphed into a knowing little smirk. “I just wanted to hear that you wanted to fuck her but that works too.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes, picked up her tray and dropped it off at the window, before starting the walk back to her studio.

 

“Clarke, wait up!” Octavia yelled after her with a laugh. She came up to her friend’s side and pulled her to a stop. When she saw the anger in Clarke’s expression, Octavia immediately sobered up. “Look, and I’m being completely serious. What’s the problem then? Why don’t you just go for it?”

 

“Because that’s what I thought I felt with Finn.” And understanding washed over Octavia; it wasn’t about Lexa at all. She took Clarke’s hand and dragged her to a nearby bench with a little more privacy than the center of the sidewalk. “He made me feel safe and loved and happy until he didn’t. How can I trust anyone after what happened with him? How can I trust that I won’t find myself in the exact same position in another 10 years from now?”

 

“Clarke. Not everyone is Finn, especially not Lexa. You can’t just shut yourself off from ever loving or trusting again. What kind of life would that leave you with?”

 

“I understand that, O. I really do. But I’m not ready to go through it all again. I’m not ready to give myself to a person then have them completely crush my spirit. I feel like I’ve just started getting myself back.”

 

“Babe, you have seemed more yourself in the week since you’ve met Lexa then you have in the past six months since you’ve been back. And even before then, really.” Octavia grabbed Clarke’s hand and offered her a supportive smile. “I know you, Clarke, and you give yourself completely to things, whether it’s relationships or work or happiness. You’re not the type to hold back, so you shouldn’t now. Not when you have a chance to be happy again.”

 

Clarke was running out of excuses. _Damn you, Octavia, for knowing me so well_. “And if it all crashes and burns in my face?”

 

“Then Raven and I, and all of your friends, will be there to help you pick up the pieces. And then we’ll try again.”

 

Clarke contemplated those words then looked up from where she was staring at their joined hands. “What if she’s not interested?”

 

“Oh, trust me. She’s _interested_. Lincoln said she’s asked after you every day this week at practice.” Clarke’s face lit up a little, almost imperceptibly. Octavia noticed though and smiled a little before pulling Clarke up so that they were once again standing. “Come on, babe. Since I have the afternoon off, we should go shopping for the game. Gotta have you looking smoking for the Commander.”

 

“How did you know I was going? And why did you call Lexa the Commander?” Clarke said, pulling back a little.

 

“ _Please_ , I might have been gone but I know _all_. And you’ll see when she plays, it’s kind of incredible really. Now let’s go. Momma has had her eyes on a pair of pumps for a while now and I fully intend to buy them.”

 

Clarke laughed but allowed herself to be pulled away before stopping suddenly. “Wait. Do you mind if we stop by the studio for a bit? I just realized what I want to add to my painting.”

 

“Sure,” Octavia replied with a shrug. “I’ll grab coffee while you finish up. I need caffeine anyways.”

 

The two separated at the studio with a promise from Octavia that she’d grab her something and Clarke made her way back up to her room.

 

Clarke was at her easel for the next half hour, adjusting her painting. Instead of having the head facing away from the viewer, her head was turned to see a profile. And before Clarke could stop herself, a familiar strong nose and jawline began to appear from beneath wavy hair. She stepped back, content for the day and made her way back to Octavia.

 

* * *

  

Clarke was sitting in the dressing room at Zara, waiting as Octavia tried on some new pants. She was usually pretty invested in shopping but their earlier talk had her perusing her thoughts on Lexa rather than the racks. A buzz from her phone broke her out of her reverie and she looked to see a message from an unknown number.

 

 **[3:54 pm] Unknown Number:** _Hey Clarke, it’s Lexa. I hope your week is going well. I got your number from Lincoln, I hope that’s okay!_

 

“O, O!” Clarke almost shouted into the near empty dressing room.

 

Octavia came running out, without a top and unbuttoned pants on. “What?! Where’s the fire?”

 

Clarke, who had been trying to hide her smirk behind her hand, burst into a fit of giggles. Once she had calmed a little, “Nice panties,” Clarke said, referring to the pink panties with a bedazzled butterfly sitting on the front.

 

“Hey!” Octavia said, quick to zip up the pants, and when Clarke started laughing again, she crossed her arms. “I had to fly out last minute and all of my cute underwear are at Lincoln’s. Why did you summon me, Princess? Was it just to laugh at me?”

 

Clarke wiped a tear of mirth from the corner from her eye. “No, no. I need your help! Lexa texted me.”

 

“What are we? In middle school? You summoned me like the world was burning down for a text?”

 

“Well if your panties are any indication…” Clarke said with a smile but looked down, beginning to question why she had Octavia come out too. It was just a text, after all.

 

Octavia sighed with a smile. “Skootch over, big butt. What did she say?” Clarke showed her the text and Octavia read over it with a small hum. “Seems pretty straight forward. Just tell her you’re well and ask her what’s up.”

 

 **[3:58 pm] Clarke:** _Hey Lexa! Yeah, that’s fine. I’m doing well, what’s up?_

Not even a minute later, the phone buzzed again.

 

 **[3:59 pm] Lexa:** _I’m good. Just checking in to see if you were still coming to the game on Friday. I’m reserving tickets now._

 

Clarke’s face dropped a little. She had hoped for some reason that Lexa had just texted her to talk or to check in. This seemed more business than anything. Octavia exited the stall again, the pants thrown over her arm. Her business attire had also been replaced by black, ripped skinny jeans, a grey tank and her signature oversized leather jacket.

 

“Did she respond?”

 

Clarke showed her the text, trying to hide her disappointment.

 

“Oh, that’s good! Those tickets are actually super hard to reserve so it makes sense that she’s double checking. Let her know you’re coming and you’re looking forward to it.”

 

The two began to make their way out of the changing room. “Are you getting those?”

 

“I am, my ass looked phenomenal if I do say so myself.” Octavia lifted her chin a little in pride. Clarke had always been somewhat jealous of Octavia for that. She could be wearing a burlap sack and the girl could still ooze self confidence. “But not before you try some things on. Come on, I had the clerk start a room for you and I want to grab a few more things as well.”

 

Clarke sighed but followed Octavia nonetheless, there really was no point in arguing.

 

 **[4:02 pm] Clarke:** _I’ll be there!_

**[4:04 pm] Lexa:** _I’m glad. The ticket will be waiting for you at the box office, just make sure you have your ID._

Clarke was about to put her phone away when it buzzed again.

 

 **[4:04 pm] Lexa:** _What are you up to?_

**[4:05 pm] Clarke:** _Just shopping with Octavia._

**[4:06 pm] Lexa:** _Sounds like fun?_

**[4:07 pm] Clarke:** _More like torture. I’m being forced into about 10 different things I don’t even need._

**[4:08 pm] Lexa:** _Lol. Well don’t die before making it to my game. I was looking forward to you seeing me play._

A smile fell across Clarke’s face.

 

“Come on, Clarke!” Octavia shouted over her shoulder, arms full with stuff for Clarke.

 

“Coming!”

 

Clarke sent out one last text before storing her phone back into her purse. And even through the torture of trying on and modeling a billion things on for Octavia, that smile didn’t leave her face for the rest of the trip.

 

* * *

 

 **[4:10 pm] Clarke:** _I wouldn’t miss it._

 

Lexa’s face broke into a grin as she waited in the carpool line for Aden. She shot a quick text to her manager, letting her know that the third ticket she usually had reserved for someone else— _why was it still so hard to say her name after all this time?_ —was going to be for Clarke.

 

A light tapping on the window brought her gaze upward and towards the passenger side. Standing there, ponytail and all was Stacie Brunks, a PTA divorcee who had been trying to hit on Lexa for months.

 

_Oh, great._

 

She rolled the window down of her Porsche 911 with a polite smile. Before she could get a word out, a high pitched, “Lexaaaa! How are you?” came through the window. 

 

Lexa had to physically stop herself from wincing. “I’m good, Stacie. What about yourself?”

 

“Better now that you’re here,” she continued with an obnoxious giggle. “Missed you at the last PTA meeting!”

 

“Yeah, with the season picking up and all I haven’t had much time for things besides for work.” Lexa said and couldn’t ignore the way the redhead’s ears perked up at Lexa’s job or the eye roll that threatened to overtake her own face in response. The woman was the gossip queen of the parent circles at school and Lexa had no doubt she knew what Lexa racked in each year.

 

Lexa could hear her name being yelled over the business of the pick up line and it effectively cut off whatever Stacie as going to say next. The ten-year old owner of the voice came into view as Stacie moved out of view to open the door. Aden was still wearing his school uniform but his tie was loosened and his hair was shaken out of its usual smooth configuration.

 

Stacie opened the door for him and he shoved his backpack at his feet. As the woman closed the door and leaned down to say more, Lexa cut her off. “It was good to see you again, Stacie! Until next time!” Lexa closed the window and pulled away from the curb before she could say anymore.

 

“Thank god you showed up when you did, kid.” Lexa said, releasing a sigh she hadn’t known she was holding.

 

“What was that about?” Aden asked.

 

“Nothing, in particular. That woman is just insufferable, is all.”

 

“You think she’s bad? You should meet her son. He’s the worst,” Aden said, crossing his arms.

 

“I thought that kid, Mikey, was the worst?”

 

“He was until I met Cameron,” Aden insisted, referring to Stacie’s kid. “Mikey is annoying but Cameron is a straight up bully to the younger kids.”

 

“I thought private school was supposed to different?” Lexa asked. She knew early on that Aden was special—too smart and a little different from his peers—and as such had sent him to the best private school in the area in hopes that a smaller environment would be better for him.

 

“Same shit, different cow.”

 

Lexa snorted out a laugh. “Hey, who taught you that kind of language?”

 

“I didn’t have to be taught anything. Spending enough time around you and Anya leads to a rather colorful vocabulary.”

 

“Mhmm…” Lexa would have to talk to Anya about cutting back on the use of expletives around Aden. He was too smart for his own good. “So how was school today? Did you learn anything new?”

 

Aden went on a tangent for the rest of the ride about his classes. Math, in particular, was beginning to catch his eye as they were moving towards pre-algebra. When they pulled up to their recently purchased four floor condo in the Back Bay, Aden had just begun explaining where his class was in learning geometrical figures and he didn’t stop until they were putting their stuff down in the kitchen.

 

The only thing that interrupted Aden’s rant was a buzz from Lexa’s phone. There was a Snapchat friend request as well as two incoming snaps from Clarke. Lexa immediately opened her phone, followed her back and viewed the snaps. One was a mirror picture of Clarke in the poofiest, pink contraption that she ever seen with “ _HELP_ ” written at the bottom followed by a picture of Clarke in some slinky, blue thing with more cutouts than was appropriate. The caption on the second read, “ _She’s making me try on prom dresses. Save me_!”

 

Lexa let out a genuine laugh before typing out a quick. “ _What’s your location? I’m sending a SWAT team in as we speak._ ”

 

“What was that?” Aden asked, curious.

 

“What was what? I just laughed.”

 

“It was the way you laughed,” Aden said, placing both elbows on the counter as Lexa moved around the kitchen to make them a snack. “You don’t usually laugh like that. Come on. Spill the beans, sister.”

 

“Sister?” Lexa asked with a laugh. She was prepared to shut down what every crazy train of thought Aden had gotten on but he raised an eyebrow at her and she knew the kid was too observant for his own good. “Fine, fine. It was a picture from Clarke.”

 

“Clarke, huh? From Sunday?”

 

“The one and the same,” Lexa said, glad that she was turned around to hide the smile that crept on her face at the thought of Sunday. “She’s coming to the game on Friday.”

 

Aden saw the smile, as much as Lexa tried to hide it by turning around. He hadn’t seen that smile on her face in a very, very long time.

 

“You know, I like her. Her friend was a little crazy but she seemed nice.”

 

Lexa turned back around, a plate of apples and peanut butter in her hand. Another buzz and the snap message read, “ _It’s too late, just save yourself. PS can’t wait for Friday.”_ This time her smile was out there on full display and she didn’t even try to hide it.

 

“Yeah, kid. I think I like her too.”

 

* * *

 

Friday rolled around and Clarke was a bundle of nerves. She couldn’t pin down exactly why, though. Maybe because this was the first time they were seeing each other and it was planned? By the two of them, at least, and not her scheming friends.

 

“Clarke!” Raven yelled from downstairs. “Are you ready? You know Octavia will want to be early!”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a sec!” Clarke yelled back. She looked into the mirror a final time in a last ditch attempt to calm her nerves. Her white Bardot top exposed her collarbones and highlighted her growing tan. She paired it with a pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and sandals. Her face was relatively bare and her hair was pulled back into a fishtail braid, with curling tendrils framing her face. A red Red Sox cap was the only sign that she was going to a baseball game. _Let’s do this, Griffin._

 

They made it to the game early at Octavia’s insistence and found her waiting outside of the box office with Bryan.

 

“Hey guys! You ready to head in?” she asked excitedly, almost jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. Octavia and Lincoln were a good fit; she liked watching baseball just as much as he liked playing. Octavia was decked out in face paint, a baseball cap and a jersey with Lincoln’s last name, Wayne, scrawled across the back. Bryan was dressed in much the same way, with Miller scrawled across the back of his.

 

They got their tickets and made it to their seats before Octavia and Bryan retreated to get them drinks with a promise that they knew where the best vendors were. Clarke looked around from her seat. They were pretty close to the front just above the dugout where the team sits.

 

“Hiya guys!” came from behind them and Clarke and Raven turned in response, expecting to find Octavia with her beer. Instead, they found Anya and Aden standing in the row, both wearing Red Sox jerseys with “Woods” woven onto the back and carrying foam fingers.

 

“Hey, guys!” Clarke and Raven said with a smile. They stood to let them in, Raven giving Anya a hug as they passed, before they settled next to Clarke with Aden directly beside her.

 

“You excited?” she asked Aden.

 

“Probably not as excited as you,” Aden said. When Clarke shot him a concerned look (how had the kid known she was so nervous?) he continued, “Just because I heard this is your first Major League Baseball game. It can be pretty intense.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t actually know a lot about baseball. I’ll probably be playing catch up most of the game.”

 

“Well I could probably be an official announcer,” Aden said proudly, pointing a thumb at his chest. “If you’d like I can help walk you through it.”

 

“I’d appreciate that, Aden. Thanks.”

 

“Hey, Aden,” Raven called around Clarke. “Do you mind if Clarke and Anya switch? I’d like a personal narrator too.” And her smirk began to peak through.

 

“Sure!”

 

Clarke gave Raven a suspicious glance before switching with Anya. Bryan and Octavia returned shortly after with beers and the stands gradually began to fill with people from all walks of life. Clarke had never realized how much sports brought people together; a man in a suit was chatting with a painter—both looked like they had just gotten off work—while a mom of three was raising her beer in cheers with the peanut vendor. And _everyone_ was decked to the nines in Red Sox attire.

 

“So, you’re going to be nice to Lexa, right?” Aden’s voice broke through her people watching.

 

“I’m sorry?” Clarke’s face expressing her surprise.

 

“It’s just that Lexa hasn’t really had an easy go of it. She got hurt pretty badly and got me in the process. She was young, too. I see the way she lights up at the mention of you and I just don’t want to see her get hurt.”

 

Clarke had to remind herself that she was talking to a 10-year old in that moment. Aden seemed so mature for his age, which could only be a result of loss or heartache, in Clarke’s opinion. She collected herself before responding, “Aden, I can’t promise that I will never hurt Lexa. One of the tragic faults of humans is that we sometimes make the wrong decisions.” Aden looked like he was about to rebuke her but she continued. “But, I promise I will _never_ intentionally hurt her. I’ve been the one hurt, and I would never purposefully put someone through that.”

 

Aden contemplated that for a moment before nodding to himself, as if accepting this answer. He looked back at Clarke, some of the mirth returning to his face, and held out his hand to shake.

 

Clarke couldn’t stop a small smile from peaking out and shook his hand in a silent pact.

 

“Here,” Aden said, handing her his foam finger with a smile. “Every first timer needs a foam finger.”

 

Clarke took it gingerly, as if handling fine china rather than a piece of Styrofoam. “Thanks, Aden.”

 

Aden merely smiled again.

 

A voice came over the speakers then, welcoming the crowds and introducing the team. And before Clarke truly understood what was happening, the game had started with the Yankees batting. It wasn’t until Clarke saw Lexa walking onto the field that she began to focus. A warmth settled low into Clarke’s stomach as she stared at Lexa, even more so when the brunette started to pitch. She followed the lines of Lexa’s body as she threw impossibly fast ball after fast ball towards the batter. Clarke hardly cared at this point. The strength in Lexa’s arms, the way her leg lifted before each pitch, the curve of her back as she arched the ball towards the hitter. It was all effortless strength and grace and it was enthralling to watch.

 

Clarke zoned out—but in a good way—and didn’t focus again until the announcer declared the end of the inning. As the Sox came off the field, Lexa made eye contact with Clarke; it was as if she had memorized the position of the chair and knew exactly where to look. Lexa beamed then, as if she half expected the seat to be empty, and she put her hand up in a small wave. Clarke lifted her hand too, and Lexa burst into a laugh. Clarke looked at her hand to see the foam finger on it and she laughed too.

 

When the Red Sox were at bat, Clarke did her best to understand as Aden explained step by step what was happening but she couldn’t grasp it. As the second inning was coming to a close, Clarke had come to a simple conclusion: baseball was _boring_.

 

The game continued in much the same way: the Sox would bat and get a run or two, Clarke would zone out, Lexa would come to pitch, Clarke would zone back in. The only constant throughout the game was that Lexa never let the other team get a run. It wasn’t until the sixth inning that Clarke noticed Lexa making small gestures behind her back.

 

Clarke leaned over to Aden, “Hey, Aden? What’s Lexa doing with her hands?”

 

Octavia overheard the question and butt in. “She’s signaling to the team what she plans to do so that they can prepare. It’s why the team has dubbed her the Commander. That and the fact that she is kind of scary while they are training.” Octavia added with a laugh.

 

Clarke looked back to the game and noticed how the players zeroed in on her hands covertly, taking their orders and cues without a second thought, and Clarke had a new appreciation for the thought that went into the game. That didn’t stop her from zoning though; when Lexa wasn’t on the pitch, Clarke had decided on people watching to pass the time. One couple in particular a few rows closer to the center caught her attention. They seemed to be going from arguing under their breath to full on making out each inning and Clarke couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that she wanted someone to argue with and kiss in that moment.

 

The game finally ended 4-0 and the crowd went wild. Their group made it out of the stadium, waiting for respective partners, family members and friends. Just then, Lincoln, Bellamy, Miller and Lexa all began making their way over to them and Clarke was reminded of comrades in arms coming home from battle. Everyone greeted each other with open arms and heartfelt congratulations.

 

The group began to disperse a little bit later; the team was flying out early for a game in Chicago and weren’t going to be back until Tuesday. Partners began to separate: Miller and Bryan left first, Anya and Aden followed soon after because it was getting late, Lincoln and Octavia left soon after that, and Raven and Bellamy made their way to the car last. Clarke could hardly miss the wink Raven shot her over her shoulder when she promised to wait at the car.

 

Clarke finally turned to Lexa, unable to truly congratulate her in all the chaos. “So that was really amazing. You guys did a great job,” she complimented with uncertainty. _Your ass looks great in those pants_ and _I could watch you throw that stupid ball around all day_ were more up the alley of what she wanted to say.

 

“Thanks, Clarke,” Lexa said warmly. “I hope it wasn’t too boring for you?”

 

“If I’m being completely honest, I really wasn’t paying much attention unless you were on the field,” Clarke said, a small blush creeping onto her face; Lexa was instantly reminded of the night they met and couldn’t understand how that had only been a week ago. “Aden did a great job of explaining the game, though. That kid is too smart for his own good.”

 

“Yeah, he’s really something special.” Clarke couldn’t stop her smile at how Lexa softened at just the mention of Aden. Lexa’s phone went off then and she peaked down, a small frown beginning to form. “Speaking of, Anya is trying to leave and Aden is staying at mine tonight since I’ll be gone until Tuesday. I better, you know, head out.”

 

“Yeah…” Clarke said, unsure since their conversation was cut short. “Well good job, again.”

 

“Thanks, Clarke.” Lexa said, lingering and hoping for something more. When she didn’t seem to get what she wanted, she began to back away and make her way towards Anya’s car.

 

And before Clarke could stop herself, she found herself calling, “Lexa, wait!”

 

Lexa turned around, a silent question in her eyes.

 

“Do you want to get dinner or something with me next week?” She paused, gathering her courage. “I mean; it doesn’t have to be dinner. We can get drinks or coffee or lunch, even. I know your schedule is pretty hectic.”

 

Lexa paused, surprised. Mostly because she was two seconds from turning around and doing the same thing. “Dinner sounds great,” she responded with a smile that Clarke swore could light up the darkest of nights. “On two conditions, though. I get to plan everything and it’s on me. No questions asked.”

 

Clarke looked apprehensive but open. “That’s three conditions, isn’t it?” she asks teasingly.

 

Lexa smiled again, smaller and appreciative. “Fine. Three conditions. Do we have a deal, Griffin?”

 

“I think we have a deal, Woods.”

 

* * *

 

 Pictures:

(This is quickly becoming my favorite part of writing these)

 

Lexa's car:

Lexa and Aden's townhouse:

Clarke's outfit:

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry this is getting out so late. Finals and a spontaneous beach trip does not a productive weekend make. I'm hoping to start posting every Wednesday but I'll let y'all know when my schedule is no longer so hectic.
> 
> Comments and critiques are encouraged, and as always, have a lovely rest of your weeks!
> 
> xo Jax
> 
> PS Sorry for my shitty sports writing. Research attempts ended in a five hour nap on my friends couch!


	7. No Questions Asked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa go on their first official date. Lexa pulls out the big guns.

“She should definitely wear the blue Armani! It’ll bring out her eyes!”

 

“That is so predictable! She should wear the red Valentino, it’ll make her stand out!”

 

“She wore red on their last date, she can’t wear red again! What about black? No one can resist a woman in black.”

 

“You would say black, O. You don’t own another color.”

 

Raven and Octavia had been verbally sparing for the last ten minutes over the dresses Lexa had sent over. Beautiful, extravagant, couture dresses that Clarke could not even imagine touching much less wearing. They were the dresses worn by celebrities and A-listers and Clarke was slightly overwhelmed by it all. Hell, the dresses even had their own bodyguard and Clarke had to sign them into her custody in order to bring them into the house.

 

As her two friends continued to argue about her dress, Clarke perused the racks again. They were all extraordinarily. Every shade. Every kind of fabric. It was amazing and unnecessary and Clarke would be rejecting it all if she hadn’t made that deal of “no questions asked”. She flipped through the dresses again before finding it.

 

“Guys,” she said, turning around with the dress and effectively shutting her two best friends up. “This is _the one_.”

 

* * *

 

Lexa was standing on a pedestal as an old, Italian man wandered around her, taking measurements and mumbling Italian numbers to himself under his breath. Meanwhile, Lexa was staring at her phone with a goofy smile on her face: a text from Clarke that simply read, “ _You shouldn’t have,”_ and an accompanying picture of a rack of dresses.

 

Anya, who was sitting in the corner with feigned interest, watched and waited during Lexa’s fitting. This was one of the few nights that they both had free since Aden was staying at a friend’s, so they decided to take advantage of that fact and go out for a “grown up” dinner. That was, however, after Lexa finished up her last minute fitting with Francesco. “Why do you look like Aden when he realized he got that bike for Christmas last year?”

 

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Why did you insist on coming to my fitting if you’re just going to sit there and be snarky?” she countered.

 

Anya merely shrugged. “It beats dealing with Gisele and her endless hunt for the perfect work for their entry way. And to top it all off, every time I find something she kind of likes, Tom vetoes it because of the price. That man is surprisingly stingy considering how much money they make.” Tom Brady and Gisele Bündchen were long time clients of Anya’s even before they moved to Boston in 2014. They were one of the reasons Anya became one of the most sought after art dealers on the east coast and the country.

 

“How are they, by the way? I haven’t seen them since that benefit we went to last fall.”

 

“As perfect as ever, from what I gather. He’s surprising her with a trip to a private island for her birthday before the season starts up.”

 

“Of course he is,” Lexa said with another eye roll.

 

“Hai finito, bella,” Francesco said, putting his measuring tape back around his neck. ( _You’re finished, beautiful_.)

 

Lexa stepped down and grabbed her bags. “Will it be ready for tomorrow, Francesco?”

 

“Si, come pick it up tomorrow morning.” He said in his thick accent. The two parted ways with a kiss on each cheek and Lexa and Anya made their way out of the shop.

 

“Hearing him speak makes me want Italian. Does that work for you?” Anya asked.

 

“Sure.”

 

They made their way to their favorite Italian restaurant around the corner and settled down, a bottle of Lexa’s favorite red immediately brought to the table.

 

“You know, we really should mix it up with the restaurants we go to,” Lexa said with a smirk. “We come here way too often.”

 

“Hey, it’s not our fault that Aden loves the ravioli here!” Anya defended.

 

“Aden’s not here, Anya.”

 

“Well it’s my favorite ravioli too.” Anya muttered.

 

Lexa couldn’t help but smile at their little family and its practiced nuances. “So, how’re things going with Raven?”

  

Anya uncharacteristically avoided eye contact and blushed. She took a sip of wine before looking back up at Lexa. “It’s going okay.”

 

Lexa picked up her glass, as well. “ Care to elaborate?”

 

“I don’t know what you want to hear, honestly,” Anya said with a casual shrug. “She’s probably one of the smartest, cockiest people I have ever met. And I like her, I really do, but she doesn’t seem to want a relationship.”

 

“And you do?”

 

“No!” Anya said, defensive. “But I don’t think a casual fling is what I need right now. Not with work and Aden and you.”

 

“Anya, I don’t want you putting your life on hold for us. Aden is my responsibility; you don’t have to worry about us.” Lexa said, the guilt that had been around since Anya started helping out resurfacing. Not that it ever really went away _._

 

“That’s not what I meant, Lexa, and you know that. I don’t see you guys as a responsibility or as something that’s holding me back. You’re _family_. But you just got signed to the fucking Red Sox and Aden is about to start middle school. I want to be there for you guys.”

 

“Fine, fine, I know. I just don’t want you putting your life on hold for us. You deserve the world. Give it a chance, I’ll blame myself if you don’t.” Lexa finished with a smile.

 

“Fine. Whatever.” Anya begrudged, taking another swig from her glass.

 

They’re food arrived shortly after, without them even having to order it; a ravioli for Anya and a steak salad with dressing on the side for Lexa. _We really need to go somewhere new_ , Lexa thought with the shake of her head.

 

“Aden said he wants to try out for soccer next year…” Anya started.

 

“Following in your shoes, I see.” Lexa said with a small smirk. Anya had played soccer all the way through college; it’s how she got a full ride scholarship to Berkley and got her double major in art history and business.

 

“He’s worried about telling you, you know.” Anya continued, worried about Lexa’s response.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you’re this huge baseball star. He just wants to make you proud.”

 

Lexa shook her head, a distraught look clouding her features. “That boy could drop out of school and start a rock band and I would still be proud of him.”

 

“I know that,” Anya consoled, placing a hand atop the one Lexa had on the table. “But you’re his idol Lexa. You’re his everything.”

 

Lexa merely nodded, lost in her thoughts. She would have to talk to him about this and soon. The two friends fell into a momentary silence, chewing on their food and thoughts.

 

“So are you excited about tomorrow night?” Anya asked after taking a sip of her wine.

 

Lexa grabbed hers as well, contemplating what exactly she was feeling. “More nervous than anything. It’s not too much is it? Too extravagant and indulgent?”

 

“Lexa, I have never met a woman who doesn’t like to be showered in gifts. You’re a catch, you know.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement of fact.

 

“But Clarke’s different,” Lexa insisted. “She’s special.”

 

“And you’re special too. Trust me, she’s going to love it. Besides, you put too much thought and effort into it to back out now. Grow a pair, Woods. You got this,” Anya assured.

 

Lexa chuckled deeply and looked out the window, hoping blindly that Clarke liked what she had planned. A buzz from her phone that was sitting on the table caught her attention.

 

 **[7:02 pm] Clarke:** _I’m excited for tomorrow ;)_

Lexa smiled. When had it become so easy for a simple text to make her smile?

 

 _You’ve got this, Woods_.

 

* * *

 

“Stop fidgeting, Clarke.” Octavia said from behind her, exasperated. Octavia was attempting to do Clarke’s hair but the blonde was moving around too much for her to get the hair to do what she wanted.

 

“Sorry.” She muttered.

 

“Don’t talk.” Raven commanded, trying to put the finishing touches on her lipstick.

 

“Sorry.” She repeated.

 

They stayed their, silent in their work and nervousness, Raven’s “Let’s Get Ready and Fuck Shit Up” playlist, newly updated with just about every song from the new Gorillaz album, coming through the speakers.

 

“Annnddddd, done.” Octavia said with a flourish, Raven backing up at the same time to admire her handy work.

 

The two stepped back and Clarke opened her eyes to look into the mirror. She looked like a dream, something otherworldly and fairy-like. Her hair was in a soft updo, her normally wild curls calmed into softer ones and pinned up in a romantic fashion with tendrils hanging down to frame her face. A soft pale, gold crown was pinned into her hair, accenting the gold in her hair and shimmering softly in the light. Her makeup was relatively simple; eyes warm and soft with pink tones and long false lashes drawing your gaze to her eyes. Her cheekbones were chiseled but her cheeks were soft, a light blush bringing her face to life. Her lips were painted burgundy, newly plump from the lip mask Raven had brought over from her last trip to Asia.

 

“Wow, guys. Thank you. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever looked this beautiful in my life.” Clarke said with a soft smile, failing to tear her eyes away from her reflection. Out of sight, her best friends rolled their eyes at that.

 

“Well come on, Griffin, we can’t wait around all day. Let’s see the full picture.” Raven said with a smile. Her friend was happy, undeniably and irrevocably happy, and Raven was just glad to see her previously, obnoxiously joyous friend smile again.

 

Clarke stood and stripped off the protective robe. The warm brown tulle flowed around Clarke like a river, the burgundy flowers that matched her lipstick to a “T” falling softly down the front of the dress like an early fall day. Little ribbons tied off of each shoulder, giving the dress an ethereal quality that went perfectly with her hair and makeup. It was decadent in it’s simplicity and Clarke couldn’t help but think that she had never truly felt love until that moment.

 

“Damn, Griffin. Dior does you _good._ ” Octavia appraised.

_Dior. Of course I would fall in love with a dead, possibly gay Frenchman._

“Clarke, you look amazing.”

 

“Beyond amazing. If I were ever to be into girls it would totally be you.”

 

“Hey!” Raven said with pretend mortification. “I thought I was your would-be lady lover?!”

 

“You were until I saw Clarke in that dress,” Octavia said cheekily.

 

The two girls continued bickering as Clarke turned around to look at herself. And she smiled; not a cocky smirk or a self-satisfied grin, but the smile of a confident woman. Someone happy with themselves. And she realized that she hadn’t felt that way in a very, very long time.

 

“Alright ladies, let’s do this.” Clarke said and marched out of the bedroom with newfound purpose.

 

They adjourned to the living room to a bottle of “Clarke is finally getting back out there and that deserves a drink” champagne that Raven bought. The afternoon sun came through the windows and the birds were chirping outside; it was as if the universe was giving it’s blessing.

 

“So why exactly is Lexa picking you up at three? Who starts a date then? And in a ball gown? What’s that about?” Octavia said, looking at the clock. It was 2:37 pm now and Clarke had not heard from Lexa since earlier that day when she got an ungodly early good morning text from the brunette. In fact, she had gotten a good morning text every day since last week when they agreed to the date in the first place.

 

“I have no idea,” Clarke confessed. “’No questions asked,’ remember?”

 

Octavia sought another source and directed her gaze towards Raven, who was suddenly very interested in a Rubik’s cube she had laying around. “Ray…” Octavia drawled out.

 

“O…” Raven mimicked.

 

“Come on, Ray. Spill the beans.” Octavia persisted.

 

“And why is it that you assume I know something?” Raven countered.

 

“You seriously need to ask? You are about two steps away from fucking Lexa’s best friend. You’ve _got_ to know something.” Octavia finished, arms crossed and triumphant.

 

_Oh, Ray, you really walked into that one._

 

Raven, was uncharacteristically red and Clarke knew it wasn’t from the warm air flowing through the open, patio doors. “We’re just talking,” she grumbled. “Besides, even if I _did_ know something, I wouldn’t tell you two.”

 

Octavia jumped up so suddenly that Clarke had to quench a yelp. “HA! So you do know something! Come on Reyes, cough it up. You have an obligation as a _best friend_ to tell us what you know; everyone knows Clarke hates surprises.” Octavia turned towards Clarke with a pointed stare that practically screamed “play along.”

 

Clarke gave Raven her best puppy dog eyes. “You know; I _really_ do hate surprises. Come on, Ray. You’ve gotta give me something.”

 

Raven knew she was being played but rolled her eyes and conceded nonetheless. “Fine, fine. All I’m going to say is that the entire thing is larger than life and you’re going to be blown away.”

 

“But—”

 

“No buts. I don’t want to ruin it.” Raven persisted and with crossed arms stared out the window, unwilling to give up any more information.

 

Octavia and Clarke shared disappointed looks but let it go.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Clarke was laughing at a particularly bad “stoic Lincoln” expression—or as Raven calls it, “his only expression” besides the lovesick puppy dog eyes that he reserves for Octavia— which earned Raven a slap from the latter. A knock interrupted their raucous laughter and all of Clarke’s ease and self-confidence flew out the window. When was the last time she felt nervous about going on a date? Even before Finn, Clarke was not one to be shy or timid; she was confident and commanded the attention of others in the room. She was beautiful and she knew it, though not in a cocky sense. Suddenly though, she felt like a wet dish rag wearing a burlap sack.

 

“Guys. I don’t know if I can do this. What if I’m not what she thinks I am? What if I mess it all up? I mean—”

 

“Oh hell no,” Octavia said, effectively cutting her off. “I did not just spend an hour on your hair, probably giving me early onset carpal tunnel, mind you, for you to back out now.”

 

“That’s not how carpal tunnel—”

 

This time Raven interjected. “O makes a bad argument but her point is valid. You need this and you look like a Greek goddess. Now off to the door before I answer first and tell Lexa about the time you got explosive diarrhea during that JT concert in high school…”

 

“Fine fine fine,” she rushed out, both physically and verbally. Clarke slowed as she made her way towards the front door before stopping directly in front of it. She closed her eyes and took a breath before opening it.

 

On the other side stood Lexa wearing her signature smirk, a well-tailored suit—which was unbuttoned at the top— a bowtie that hung loosely around her neck, and Louboutin. It was similar to the time they had met yet completely different with the cut of the suit and the heels, making her impossibly long legs infinitely longer. Her hair was pulled back in a low bun, accenting her strong jaw, and her dark eye makeup practically demanded you stare into her green orbs. Clarke was reminded of the war paint donned by Vikings and other warriors and she knew that all Lexa had to do was ask and Clarke would follow her onto any battlefield.

 

“Clarke… you look absolutely stunning.” Lexa complimented, her smirk gone and all that was remaining was pure and unadulterated awe at the woman standing before her.

 

“I… thank you.” Clarke said, unable to maintain her gaze with eyes that looked impossibly green in this light. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” She looked back up then to see Lexa still staring at her as if she were the only thing in existence; the only thing worth looking at, anyways.

 

Their staring contest was interrupted with a loud, “Damn, Woods, you clean up good!” coming from behind Clarke, her two friends standing farther back, appraising the couple.

 

Clarke had to purposely remind herself not to smack her forehead with her hand so as not to ruin her makeup. “Did you want to come in?” Clarke asked with instant regret.

 

“No, thank you,” Lexa declined politely with a smirk from the panic that crossed Clarke’s face. “We actually have a reservation to make so we better be going.” Clarke couldn’t tell in that moment who was more relieved.

 

“At three?” Clarke asked, again shooting herself in the foot.

 

Lexa simply laughed, soft and calm, before responding playfully, “You’ll see.”

 

Clarke sighed in relief, glad that her crazy friends and idiotic questions hadn’t scared the brunette off. She rushed out the door, quick to get Lexa away from her nosy friends and their prying eyes. “Alright guys, we’re heading out! See you later!”

 

And all you could hear before the door shut was, “Get her home by midnight, Woods!” and “No heavy make out sessions, I spent too goddamn long on that makeup!”

 

Clarke muttered, “Oh my God” under her breath and Lexa barked out a single laugh before holding out her arm for the blonde to take. Clarke took it and the two walked silently around the house to where a town car was parked.

 

“My lady, your chariot awaits,” Lexa said with a flourish, opening the door for Clarke.

 

“Damn, Woods. Are you always this cheesy?” Clarke asked with an eye roll, but climbed in nonetheless before Lexa closed the door and moved around the car.

 

“Some would call it chivalrous,” Lexa defended as she entered through the other door.

 

“And those ‘some’ are either lying or too charmed by you to care,” Clarke countered.

 

“You don’t think I’m charming?” Lexa said, a fake pout taking over her already luscious lips; it took Clarke physical effort to draw her eyes away from them.

 

“I think you’re cocky and that makes you charming,” Clarke responded honestly before pausing to gather her thoughts. “But you don’t need to be, at least not with me.” Clarke didn’t need charming; she had charming with Finn and that backfired tremendously.

 

Lexa’s face showed an array of emotions; from surprise to confusion to surreal contentment. “You know? No one has ever been that upfront with me besides Anya. And we practically grew up together so I don’t think that really counts.”

 

“No one?” Clarke asked, more to herself than Lexa, thinking of the people in her life who protected and supported her no matter what. Raven. Octavia. Bellamy. Even Monty and Jasper. She was suddenly incredibly grateful for the delinquents that made up her support system.

 

The two sat in silence for a moment and it was then, as Clarke was staring out the window, that she noticed that they were taking an exit towards I-90 and the airport. “Lexa? Where are we going? We’re not going downtown?” She had assumed, considering their clothes and the car, that they were going to some charity or sports event downtown. Where could they be going near the airport? Unless…

 

“We’re going a little farther than downtown.” Lexa replied, her smirk and usual gusto back.

 

“How much is a ‘little farther’? This isn’t you kidnapping me, is it?” Clarke joked, though suddenly apprehensive.

 

“No, Clarke.” Lexa said slightly condescendingly. “You are not getting kidnapped.”

 

“Then where are we going?”

 

Lexa tsk-ed and gently reminded, “No questions asked, remember?”

 

Clarke crossed her arms with a huff; she really _did_ hate surprises.

 

They drove past the terminals to a separate gate that led to the tarmac where a dormant helicopter was waiting. _At least we can’t be going_ that _far_ , Clarke thought begrudgingly, though the thought wasn’t giving her much comfort. Lexa exited the vehicle first before making her way to Clarke’s side and opening the door. She guided Clarke with a hand on the small of her back, though not in a pushy nor demanding way, towards the helicopter where a man in a suit was waiting for them.

 

“Ms. Woods. Ms. Griffin.” He said with a nod to each of them.

 

“Come on, Xavier, we’ve been flying together for how long?” Lexa asked but the man’s expression remained politely indifferent.

 

Clarke held out her hand to shake and offered a bright smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Xavier. Please, call me Clarke.”

 

The man’s façade broke a bit as he offered a small smile and shook her hand tentatively. Lexa was again in awe at how easily Clarke broke down other people’s barriers, even barriers as hard as Xavier’s. It went beyond her beauty or even her kindness; it was her genuine nature and light that drew people to her like moths to a flame. Lexa had used him exclusively for helicopter flights for the past 5 years and the most she had gotten from him was a small upturn of the lip at her expense.

 

“Well, Ms. Woods. Ms. Griff…” he paused, noticing the firm stare from the blonde, and corrected himself. “ _Clarke_. Are we ready for take off?”

 

“I’d be more ready if I knew where we were going…” Clarke pouted, giving her puppy dog eyes—directed at Xavier—another attempt. Lexa knew that she would give the world to Clarke in response to that look.

 

“Sorry, Clarke. I’m under strict orders,” he insisted, the man’s mask breaking again and giving way to a broader smile. “If the two of you will follow me this way, I’ll get you settled and we can take off.”

 

They made their way into the vehicle—Clarke with more difficulty than Lexa considering the layers of tulle—and settled huge headsets over their ears before buckling in. Clarke realized when the blades started spinning that she was nervous; she had never flown in a helicopter before. Lexa, noticing her discomfort, took the hand closest to her and gave it a tight squeeze. Clarke looked down at their joined hands for a moment before looking up into Lexa’s eyes and a sense of peace washed over her. She could die happily looking into those eyes.

 

A thump in the engine, however, chased away any internal amity and Clarke closed her eyes in an effort to block it out.

 

Through the oversized headset, Clarke heard Lexa’s encouraging, though slightly muffled, words. “Don’t be nervous, Clarke. Xavier is one of the best pilots I know.”

 

“You know more than one?” Clarke, with eyes still closed, tried to joke in order to ease her nerves.

 

Lexa thought for a moment. “Well, he’s better than me at least,” Lexa said modestly.

 

“Wait, you know how to pilot a helicopter?!” Clarke practically yelled and her eyes opened to stare directly at the brunette, making her flinch as it came through her headset. “I mean, of course you do. Is there anything you can’t do, Woods?”

 

“Yes, actually. I can’t beat you at pool,” she said pointedly. “I can’t finish a Tolstoy novel to completion, no matter how hard I try. And I can’t take my eyes off of you tonight; it would be a waste to look away.” She finished and Clarke could swear her blushed traveled all the way down to her toes before settling in the pit of her stomach. Lexa wasn’t being cocky or charming or any of those things; she was being so unbelievably genuine that Clarke thought she might burst right then and there.

 

Clarke wanted to look away, she really did, but the unwavering strength and tranquility she found looking into those green orbs made it impossible. “So…” Clarke said, trying to change the subject. “You said you and Anya practically grew up together? What does that entail exactly?”

 

“We are cousins, of sorts.” Clarke’s confused gaze urged her to continue. “She’s my aunt’s daughter from her first marriage before she married my dad’s brother, so we aren’t technically related by blood.” Clarke nodded, following along. Lexa paused, wondering if she should open herself up to the vulnerability, but continued when she remembered Clarke told her about her dad. “Anyways, my dad and his brother were super close. When my parents passed, I went to live with them.” She finished, looking away from Clarke, hoping to avoid any pity in her eyes.

 

And just like Clarke, always doing something unexpected, the blonde merely squeezed her hand hard and forced her gaze back. “They must have been very amazing and very proud people, to have had a daughter like you,” she said with a small smile, not one of pity nor sadness, but one of support. Support for a young Lexa who lost her parents too soon. Support for an older Lexa who was still recovering from those old wounds. “I want to hear more about them some time, if you’re open to it. Maybe I could even tell you a little more about my dad?” Clarke offered.

 

Lexa smiled, tears beginning to well in her eyes that she abruptly chased away. How had she found someone so astoundingly perfect? “I would like that. Very much.”

 

The rest of the hour and a half ride was spent in relative silence as Clarke stared out the window in amazement and Lexa stared at Clarke in the same way.

 

However, their hands never parted. Not even once.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was entranced by the view. The colors, the trees, even the cars and the buildings made her artistic side go haywire. She wished she had brought a sketchbook in order to document the sights from this new vantage point. The trip had been relatively quiet, their potential conversations interrupted by the noise of the copter and Clarke’s wandering eye at seeing something new.

 

It wasn’t until a view of the New York skyline was upon them, with the Statue of Liberty greeting them like old friends, that Clarke exclaimed, “Lexa… you took me to _New York_!?”

 

Lexa looked unsure for a moment, unable to read Clarke’s tone through the headset. “Yes?”

 

“Lexa… it’s beautiful. You didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Clarke said, her reservations resurfacing at being this spoiled.

 

“It’s more for me than anything, promise, so you don’t have to feel too bad,” Lexa assured.

 

Clarke eyed her warily, “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“You’ll see,” Lexa replied cheekily with a wink.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes before returning them to the window, again entranced by the view.

 

They finally landed and made their way to another town car that was pulled onto the tarmac before they were quickly in the heart of the city. They pulled up outside of an older building on Leonard St. in Lower Manhattan some fifteen minutes later where the people were chiller, the vibe was calmer and the energy was mellow. Clarke felt like she stood out like sore thumb amidst the athleisure and business attire that consumed New York at 5 pm.

 

Lexa directed them to a small, black-framed door, the glass, covered from the inside, simply read “Ichimura” in the most unassuming fashion. When they were inside, Clarke saw a narrow restaurant with no more than ten seats lining a bar. It was beautifully done, with neutral walls, warm, light wood, and a stone wall at they very back. It was also entirely empty.

 

“Lex…” Clarke started, unaware of Lexa’s smile at the nickname. “I don’t think their open… Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

 

Just then, an older, Japanese gentleman wearing a chef’s smock came from the back. His already wrinkly face scrunched further to the point where his eyes were practically invisible and his smile overtook the rest of it. With a heavy accent, he exclaimed in a deep voice, “Lexa! Yōkoso! Ogenkidesuka?” ( _Welcome! How are you?_ )

 

Lexa stepped forward and bowed a little, “Konnichiwa, Ichimura-senpai.” ( _Good afternoon, Mr. Ichimura._ )

 

Clarke was staring on with her jaw probably dragging on the ground. _Of course she knows how to speak fucking Japanese_.

 

The man stepped around the bar, taking Lexa’s hand with the two of his into a firm shake and a light bow of the head. He turned his knowing gaze towards Clarke and Clarke got the immediate impression that she was being appraised.

 

“And you must be Clarke,” the man started, taking her hand as well and giving her a slight nod, to which she reciprocated. “Your beauty precedes what Lexa has said,” he said, his facing giving way to a smirk too eerily similar to Lexa’s.

 

“Thank you very much… Ichimura, is it?” Clarke tried. Languages had most definitely not been her thing in school.

 

“Hai. But you can call me Eiji-san, all of my friends do,” he said with an indiscernible wink. “But you know Lexa, always one to stand on tradition.”

 

“Eiji-san,” Clarke said with a smile, taking an immediate liking to the older gentleman with the calm, deep voice that reminded her of her father’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

Lexa stepped in then, “Ichimura-sama is one the best sushi chefs in the world and agreed to open up early today so we could come in.” Clarke looked at Lexa again, wary of the costs and lengths Lexa went to for this date. Lexa, who noticed the blonde’s apprehension, pulled her to the side as Eiji walked back behind the bar. “Don’t worry, Clarke. He’s an old friend of mine. He was excited to hear that I was coming into town and bringing someone new for him to meet.”

 

Clarke’s worry dissipated in the wake of Lexa’s cool charm. “Oh, so this is where you take all of the ladies you want to impress?” she asked playfully.

 

“Only the special ones,” Lexa replied with a smile, but closed her eyes in an effort to compose herself when Clarke had turned around to walk towards the bar, chatting quietly with Ichimura. She thought back to the last woman she had brought here several years prior, a dull ache weighing on her heart that never seemed to quite go away.

 

Lexa put a smile her face, determined to keep the evening running perfectly. It had to be perfect. For Clarke.

 

* * *

 

The meal was incredible. Clarke took each bite as if it were her last. The sashimi appetizer. The rare abalone flown in from Japan and the yellowtail brought in fresh from the local market. As they ate, Ichimura described how he aged different fish, cured them differently with salt and vinegar to utilize each individual taste. He talked about the sommelier that he had fly in from California to pair each dish with the ideal wine and how he had been perfecting this craft for nearly three decades.

 

Clarke listened on, enthralled by this man’s life and his passion. And Lexa watched Clarke, seeing how her eyes would light up when she laughed at the quirky old man, admiring how invested the blonde was in the life of a practical stranger. Clarke would ask question upon question, generally curious, and Lexa couldn’t tear her eyes away.

 

They left the restaurant around seven with a promise that they would be back when they next came to New York, at Ichimura’s insistence. Lexa was just walking out behind Clarke when she heard the old sushi chef say, “Lexa, wait.”

 

Lexa turned around, wary of what she was about to hear from the wizened man who had become something of a confidante to Lexa over the years. “She’s special,” he said, not holding back. Well, that really just wasn’t his style. “I know you are still recovering from old wounds but I can tell she’s good for you. You couldn’t keep your eyes off her.” His knowing look and small smirk were encouragement enough that she should honest.

 

“I know. Thank you again for making this happen. It means the world.” Lexa said, grabbing his hand with both of hers, similar to what he did when they first greeted one another.

 

“Anytime, Lexa. Anytime.” He watched Lexa walk out the door to a waiting Clarke, the blonde’s hand extended in anticipation.

 

They walked to where the car was waiting and got inside in the same manner as before: with Lexa holding open a door and climbing in on the other side.

 

Clarke turned to her when she entered. “What did Eiji say to you? Let me guess: I passed the test and he gave his blessing.” Clarke teased, squeezing Lexa’s hand. _Oh, if only she knew how that made her heart skip a beat._

 

“He just said what I already knew,” Lexa paused, seeing Clarke’s expectant and stubborn look. “That you’re special.”

 

Clarke blushed and avoided eye contact. _Oh, if only she knew how that made her heart skip a beat._ “Well thank you for today, Lexa. The food was amazing.”

 

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa said with a content smirk. “The date is just beginning.” Clarke looked like she was about to say something, but Lexa interrupted, “No questions asked, remember?”

 

Clarke face morphed into another pout, making Lexa laugh.

 

Without instruction, the driver began the drive and the car headed north up Manhattan. They eventually pulled behind a line of cars that lined up to a familiar site for Clarke, the Metropolitan Museum of Art. However, instead of the usual crowds of tourists and casual locals, the museum was decked out with lights, ropes and a blue and white carpet that led up to the doors. Clarke, who had been watching E! with Raven a few days before, saw all of the formalwear and photographers and realized that they were going to the Met Gala.

 

“Lexa, I…” Clarke tried, but she didn’t have words. _The Met Gala._ It was _the_ event in the fashion world, littered with celebrities and socialites, designers and models. She understood now why she was in such fancy attire, why they flew an hour and a half. It wasn’t just for the otherworldly food; it was for this.

 

“Don’t be nervous, Clarke,” Lexa assured, placing her hand in the blonde’s. Their car eventually made it to the front and the driver came around to Clarke’s side to let her out first, Lexa getting out on her side and making her way around the car.

 

Lexa wrapped an arm around her waist and led her up the stairs. They stopped midway up, where most of the pictures were taken, and posed. Calls of “Ms. Woods, over here” and “Ms. Woods, who is your date?” flooded Clarke’s ears. The flashing lights blinded Clarke as they starred out into the empty brightness. She did her best to keep her smile and not blink, completely overwhelmed by it all. Lexa, as if sensing her nervousness, tightened her arm around Clarke, causing her to look up. Blue met green, and it was as if the rest of the world melted away. Clarke’s smile, which was previously forced, softened into something more natural as Lexa looked at her. Clarke looked back out to the sea of cameras, her smile much more radiant.

 

They eventually made their way inside and Clarke stepped away a little, but not before slapping Lexa’s arm.

 

Lexa rubbed it, feigning hurt. “Ow, what was that for?”

 

“A little warning would have been nice, Woods.” Clarke grumbled, but her smile was a dead give away. “I was practically assaulted by cameras.”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. No more surprises, promise.” Lexa said, wrapping her arm back around the blonde. “Let’s get you a drink.”

 

They grabbed two chutes of champagne that passed and walked around the room, talking quietly to each other in between Lexa shaking hand with a few people and introducing Clarke to them.

 

They eventually made their way to a table with two name cards written in elegant font, dictating that this is where they were supposed to sit. Lexa left for a moment to get drinks and it gave Clarke the opportunity to appraise the room. Dresses of every color and shape lingered around the room. She saw movie stars, like Deepika Padukone and Alexander Skarsgård, models, like Kendall Jenner and Stella Maxwell, and singers, like Selena Gomez and Frank Ocean, littering the room and intermingling. It was incredible.

Lexa made it back just before Anna Wintour walked up to the stage. Clarke looked down at her drink. A gin martini with five olives, and she was instantly reminded of the night they met. She whispered a quick thanks under her breath, earning her a toothy smile from the brunette before they turned and Anna started speaking.

 

Clarke listened intently as the fashion extraordinaire talked about the theme of the evening, _Comme des_ _Garçons_ , and introduced the designer, Rei Kawakubo, who was behind the inspiration.

 

It was all wonderfully decadent and beautiful. Something that didn’t happen to ordinary people such as herself. Was this Lexa’s world? If so, what was she signing herself up for?

 

They made their way farther into the museum to see the exhibit that the gala was dedicated too, Lexa patiently waiting as Clarke stopped at each one to admire the artistry and work that went into them. As they made their way back to the main ballroom, Lexa pulled Clarke away, causing the blonde to let out a slight shriek, and behind one of the roped off areas.

 

“Lexa, wait. I think the ropes are there for a reason,” Clarke said hesitantly.

 

“Don’t worry,” the brunette’s signature smirk back in place. “I took care of everything.”

 

They went into one of the closed exhibits, European art if the signs were any indication, and the noises of the party dwindled.

 

“I figured you’d want to look at the art rather than mingle,” Lexa confessed softly.

 

“That sounds… perfect,” Clarke beamed, this time dragging Lexa along to look at the art. And Lexa let her, willing to follow her to the ends of the earth in order to ensure that that smile never left the blonde’s lips again.

 

* * *

 

 The two women moved from exhibit to exhibit, time seeming to stand still in their quiet oasis filled with art and small talk.

 

Clarke’s shoes were now in her hand, as were Lexa’s in hers, as they walked around in relative quiet. Aside from a security guard here in there, who merely nodded to the two and continued on their way, they were alone.

 

“You know, my dad took me here when I was around Aden’s age,” Clarke started, turning around to look at Lexa and continued walking backward. Their hands never parted. “We came as a family when my dad got a few days off. My mom had a surgeon’s convention to attend so she wasn’t really around even though she promised to make time for us.” Clarke shook her head, unsure why she was still upset over that. Her mom had always been the same. She loved Clarke to the moon and back but Clarke knew that motherhood simply wasn’t enough for her. She needed her work just as much.

 

Lexa squeezed her hand and pulled her to a bench, encouraging her to continue.

 

“Anyways, my dad decided to make it up to me and took me here. I was so excited and overwhelmed. And my dad waited patiently as I wandered from exhibit to exhibit. We were here for nine hours and my dad didn’t complain or push me to move faster even once.” Clarke smiled fondly at the memory. “That was when I fell in love with art.”

 

Lexa smiled at Clarke with newfound fondness. “He sounds like a wonderful man, Clarke, and I can tell he loved you very much. I wish I could have met him.”

 

“Yeah,” Clarke said, unprepared for the tenderness in Lexa’s voice. “Me too.”

 

They eventually made their way into a large room with upwardly slanting windows overtaking one wall and a large, Egyptian tomb standing towards the back. It was the only room not lit up, brightened only by the moonlight coming through the window. The entire platform they were on was surrounded by small pools of water and Clarke knew this was the time to say something.

 

“I want you to know that you didn’t have to do all of this. Although I’m incredibly grateful,” she assured when she saw a look of regret pass Lexa’s features. “I’m just not one of those people that needs to be showered in gifts and shows of money.”

 

Lexa took Clarke’s hand, the sincerest look in her eyes. “I got that from you the moment we met. I just… I knew you deserved it. You deserve the world, Clarke. You give so much, I wanted to give some of that back to you.” Clarke wanted to ask what Lexa thought she “gave” but Lexa’s trademark smirk began to show itself and combined with the moonlight coming through the windows and the softly spoken words, Clarke was instead left wondering how she was still standing. “Besides, we met in a museum filled with art, it’s only appropriate that we have our first official date in one.”

 

Clarke was tempted to laugh it off, but instead she simply said, “Thank you, Lexa.”

 

Clarke took a step forward then and reached up, her hand caressing Lexa’s cheek and tracing her strong jawline. She hesitated, her gaze alternating between Lexa’s lips and her impossibly green eyes, as she moved farther in.

 

And then it happened. It was one of those things that are described in the great romance novels, only seen in the wonderfully romantic movies that were unreal in their beauty. It was a kiss that stopped time, ignored reason, and Clarke was lost in the feel of it. Of Lexa’s impossibly soft lips on her own.

 

It was innocent at first, tender and sweet, before Clarke leaned in more, deepening the kiss, wanting—needing—to get lost farther in all that was Lexa.

 

Lexa, caught unaware, practically growled as Clarke pushed farther into her and wrapped her arms around the blonde. She wanted to drink Clarke in until they could no longer breath.

 

And that was how their perfect date ended: dizzy off of alcohol and each other, showered in moonlight and left with the promise of so much more.

 

* * *

 

“How’s my hair?” Clarke asked, fearful of Octavia’s wrath if she discovered that a single strand was out of place when she got back inside.

 

The two had just pulled up to Raven’s house, standing in the driveway and out of view of any nosy onlookers.

 

“It’s perfect,” Lexa responded, tucking a strand behind Clarke’s ear. “ _You’re_ perfect.”

 

Clarke had the urge to simultaneously roll her eyes and hide her impending blush, and she did both. She pulled Lexa along, starting their walk up to the door. “You know; you really are a smooth talker.”

 

“Maybe you should just learn to take a compliment,” Lexa teased. “I figured you’d be used to them by now. I mean, look at you.”

 

Clarke paused for a moment, thinking back to the empty compliments she had received from men and women over the years. How when she met Finn, his seemed to be the only ones that mattered. How jealous he would get when he was drunk and she had received one from another. How he had taken it out on her, beating it into her to veer away from them without a second thought. And now here was Lexa, offering sincere compliments to Clarke left and right and she realized that she needed to relearn how accept them. Relearn how to accept love.

 

“I used to know how to accept them and I… I think it got lost along the way.” She paused to look up at Lexa, again getting lost in eyes lit up by the lights of the house. “Maybe you can teach me?”

 

Lexa shuddered as Clarke’s voice deepened at the request. She noticed Clarke’s pause and her reservations. How her eyes darkened, lost in terrible memories, and her hand clenched into a vice-like grip, as if tethering herself to Lexa in fear of floating away. Clarke was light, it emulated from her into every crevice of her surroundings, and yet there was a darkness inside that was hidden. Something had happened to Clarke, she sensed it in the core of her being. Something worse than losing a parent. Worse that what Lexa herself had been through herself. And Lexa was determined to find it and loosen it’s hold on the golden woman before her.

 

Lexa wanted to voice this to her; how she would spend every day of the rest of her life scrubbing away at the darkness until Clarke was whole again. Instead, she leaned down, placing a light kiss on Clarke’s lips, setting off fireworks in both of their minds, and said, “It would be my pleasure.”

 

Clarke beamed at her, that light pouring out of her very being and lighting Lexa’s world on fire.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was back in Raven’s living room on the couch with eyes closed, hair loosened, and sore feet placed in Octavia’s lap as her friends badgered her about her night. Lexa had just left, and Clarke could not remember the last time she was so exhausted and simultaneously alive.

 

Octavia and Raven, who had been playing video games with Jasper and Monty, swiftly kicked the boys out when Clarke got home. A bottle of wine was opened and poured and her two friends practically battled to ask her questions first.

 

“How was it?”

 

“Where did she take you?”

 

“Did you have fun?”

 

“Did you do the nasty?” to which Raven promptly received two slaps from her best friends.

 

“It was amazing. _She_ was amazing. Everything was perfect. It almost doesn’t seem real,” Clarke pondered. She proceeded to describe the date in great detail, from the helicopter ride, to Ichimura and his delectable sushi, to the star-studded gala, and the art they spent the majority of their time looking at, all for Clarke’s benefit.

 

“Well believe it, chiquita,” Raven said, passing Clarke a glass. “So seriously, nothing happened. If someone took me on a date like that my panties would have dropped of their own accord.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes. _At least some things would never change_. “Nothing happened, Ray. I mean we kissed but…”

 

“You kissed?!” Octavia shrieked, practically blowing out Clarke’s eardrum.

 

 _Yep, some things will never ever change_.

 

“Yes, O. We kissed. It’s not a big deal.”

 

“Um, it’s a _huge_ deal. How was it? Was she a good kisser?” Octavia persisted.

 

“It was… perfect.” Clarke said, closing her eyes in an attempt to remember the feeling of Lexa’s lips on hers.

 

“Seems like the theme of the evening,” Raven mumbled into her glass. Raven, who was sitting on the other end of the sectional, was browsing her laptop. “Holy shit, Clarke. You’re on Vogue!”

 

“Excuse me?” Clarke asked, opening her eyes and directing her gaze at Raven in confusion.

 

“They followed the Gala! Look, you’re right here!” She turned the laptop for her friends to see, and Octavia quickly snatched it from Raven, her wine long forgotten. Clarke sat up to look at the screen. It showed a shot of Clarke and Lexa, standing with poise and grace that Clarke could not remember possessing at the time. Clarke was smiling out at the cameras and Lexa was looking at her the way she had when they first met: as if she were the only thing worth looking at.

 

“Awwwww, this is so cute!” Octavia squealed. “Seriously, you two are, like, perfect together. The way she’s looking at you, with her arm wrapped around you protectively! Oh my god, I could die!”

 

Raven and Clarke shared a knowing look as Raven moved to the kitchen to refill her glass. Their entire group dynamic could be summed up by saying that two of them were always mocking or rolling their eyes at the other. It worked. They worked. And Clarke wondered how she had gone so long without their presence in her life.

 

A knock on the door broke through Octavia’s ranting and Clarke’s thoughts.

 

“Could someone get that?” Raven called from the kitchen. “It’s probably the pizza!”

 

“I’ve got it!” Clarke called back and practically jumped at the chance to run away from Octavia’s ranting.

 

She made her way to the front door with wine in hand and a shake of the head.

 

And when she opened it, she saw the last thing she thought possible and dropped her wine glass in shock. It shattered and Clarke was sure that the red wine was probably all over the one-of-a-kind gown. Not that she cared at that moment. She was too gripped by confusion, and more intensely fear, both which kept her glued to the spot.

 

“Finn?”

 

* * *

 Pictures:

Clarke's dress:

Ichimura:

Lexa:

  

Egyptian Tomb Room:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys. Finals just finished up and I am officially a free woman! This chapter is a little longer than the others to make up for it, though. Also, apologies for the cliff hanger! Everything else was pretty fluffy so I thought we needed some suspense ;) I promise it’ll be rainbows and butterflies by the end though!
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, I hope everyone has a wonderful rest of your week/weekend! Thanks for reading and for your patience, as well as for going on this journey with me. As always, comments and criticisms are encouraged! 
> 
> I’ll see all you lovely babes next week!
> 
> xo Jax
> 
> P.S. Apologies for the translations and/or grammar errors in the parts with foreign languages. I don’t know much of either language and I’m honestly shit at foreign languages in general so I used Google Translate. If anyone knows how to correct them, don’t hesitate to tell me in the comments below.


	8. Three Strikes, You're Out (and, baby, you have one too many)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn shows up, the truth comes out, and Clarke finds her inner strength.

“Finn?”

He was drunk, that much was clear from his stumbling and his sweating brow. But there was something more to it all. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands trembling. He looked broken, like a lost puppy. Clarke felt the need to sympathize with him but knew, better than anyone, how that dismal face could turn to rage at the drop of a hat.

“Finn? What are you doing here? You need to go.” Clarke said, shaking herself out of her reverie. She tried closing the door but was stopped by a surprisingly strong hand.

“Clarke, baby, I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“If you were worried, why didn’t you come fine me? If you knew me at all, you’d know this is where I would go.”

“I… I was trying to give you your space…”

“For six months? Finn, you had your chance to—“ Clarke started.

“Hey, Clarke! Are you okay? I thought I heard a crash… Finn?” Octavia’s voice interrupted from behind her. “Oh, fuck no! Raven!”

And before Clarke knew what was happening, her two best friends were standing on either side of her, protective arms wrapping around her. She already felt stronger with their presence.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing here, Finn?” Raven questioned icily.

“Raven, Octavia, it’s… it’s good to see you both.” Finn tried, knowing now he was fighting a losing battle with Clarke’s friends there.

“I’d like to say the same but… you know what, I wouldn’t.” Octavia said with a glare that could kill a man. It seemed to have the desired effect; Finn was crumpling where he stood. “Now answer Raven, Finn. What the _fuck_ do you think you are doing here?”

Finn seemed to be growing a backbone under the glare of the three women and the repetition of that question. “I came to get my wife back. I came to…”

“No. You lost the right to call her that the moment you sent her running back here looking like a punching bag,” Raven said, making both Finn and Clarke flinch, though for different reasons.

“You know what, Raven. Back the fuck up.” Finn said with that rage that Clarke had come to realize was always bubbling under the surface. “This is between me and Clarke. I’ll leave when she tells me to.” He turned to Clarke then, an expression of pleading and an almost cocky charm—as if he knew it would work—overtaking his face. “Clarke, baby, let’s talk this out. In private.”

Clarke felt close to breaking. So, so close. The strength she had gathered in the past few months was starting to wither away. As it did in this man’s presence. “Finn, I… I can’t do this right now. You’re drunk. You need to go.”

“But—“

“You heard her, Finn. Now get the fuck off my property or I _will_ call the cops. We’re done.” Raven said, starting to close the door as Octavia pulled Clarke back inside. The view of an enraged Finn began to disappear behind the closing door. “You know, what? Not quite.” And Raven flung the door open and decked Finn square in the nose.

“Fuck!” Finn practically shouted, reaching for his likely broken nose. _Strike one._

“Tit for tat, Finn. Now go the fuck away.” Raven said with a smirk, slamming the door in his bleeding, shell-shocked face. She had been dying to do that for years.

Octavia moved towards Raven, a hand up in preparation for a celebratory high-five. “Hell yeah, Ray. I wish I could have done that but the Bureau is _so_ strict—“ she stopped when Raven poked her arm and followed that hand to look back at Clarke. Clarke, who was falling against the wall and beginning to hyperventilate, looked as though she’d seen a ghost. In many ways, she had.

Octavia went back to Clarke’s side, leading her into the living room again while Raven disappeared, likely to clean up the broken glass and wine.

Clarke could register that Octavia was next to her and was attempting to comfort her, but she wasn’t registering any actual words or the soothing touches on her arm. All too quickly and starkly, she was being thrown into a memory.

_Clarke was standing in the doorway of the coat check closet, wanting to get the lipstick she accidentally put into her jacket pocket rather than her clutch. She expected to find the woman who took her coat earlier, the same overly pleasant smile plastered on her face—Clarke should’ve noticed then how her gaze lingered on Finn. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really, that when she walked farther into the room she would find her husband playing tonsil hockey with the coat rack girl._

_Clarke should have left. She should have dumped her drink on him and stormed out and raised hell. But she was at a work event; a gala to showcase the work the hospital had done so far and the work they would do if the donors would just open their pockets a little wider. So she stood there, feeling weak at the knees and sick to the stomach, trying to find the words to say and how to say them._

_Finally, she spoke. “Finn.” There was no unbridled rage or teary squeaks. There was a firmness, repressed by the softness of her tone, though that softness dwindled when she said his name a second time._

_Finn finally looked up with an expression of shock and guilt. “Clarke, I…”_

_But Clarke was already walking away, her coat long forgotten in a sea of betrayal._

_“Clarke, Clarke wait up!” Finn called as he stumbled after her, both their coats in hand. “Clarke, baby, let’s talk this out. In private.” and he gave her that look. The look he gave when he burnt the pizza or when he dropped a new vase. A look that said, “I’m innocent. It was an accident. Forgive me.” and it usually worked. That look made her laugh off whatever mistake he had made because it was Finn. Charming, endearing, lovable Finn. Had she forgiven him too much? When he thought that_ that _look could reconcile what he had done?_

_Clarke took a breath before nodding slowly. “Let’s go home.”_

_They made it back to their newly bought house in silence. Neither really knew what to say. Clarke could feel his pleading look from the passenger side but she didn’t look over. Not even once._

_Clarke walked through the door first, throwing her keys into a bowl in the entryway. Boxes were still lying around, some opened and empty while half were unpacked and others still were taped up. They had promised each other that they would get around to it, but hadn’t yet. Well, they had promised each other many things. Clarke was beginning to wonder if his promises meant anything at all._

_Clarke went to sit in the living room and put her face in her hands in defeat while Finn made his way into the kitchen. The Matryoshka dolls they had bought together were staring up at her from an unpacked box, reminding her of the good times that they had had._

_Finn came back out and sat across from her, a beer in hand. “Come on, Clarke. Say something.”_

__Clarke looked up at him, that hazy look in his eyes, down to the beer then back up. “What do you want me to say, Finn? That I’ve never felt more embarrassed, more betrayed, more__ _heartbroken, in my life? That the man I trust more than anything has broken that trust? Answer me one thing, Finn, and be fucking honest. Has this happened before?”_

_Finn looked like he wanted to deny it, but Clarke could see right through him. How had she not suspected anything sooner?_

_Clarke stood and began to pace a little in their living room. “So all of those late nights at the office these last few months? Were you going behind me back that entire time?”_

_Finn prickled at the accusation, an unspoken rage burning in his eyes. “It’s not like that, Clarke. This promotion has been killing me. I’ve been working my ass off, so yeah, a few nights a week I’ll go to a bar and have a nightcap. And, yeah, sometimes there’s a woman there who doesn’t shut me down because of her “insane hours at the hospital,” and we fool around_ _—_ _”_

 _Clarke couldn’t believe what she was hearing. When had their lives become this? Full of lies and going behind each others backs? Where had the intimacy and trust gone? And why was Clarke just having the realization that they hadn’t been_ them _in a long time?_

 _She probably shouldn’t have said the next thing, but the anger was coursing through her, hot and dangerous. “And that’s another thing, Finn. Your drinking has gotten out of hand!” she practically screamed, gesturing to the drink in his hand. “Even tonight at a_ work _event,_ for my hospital _may I remind you, you’re practically sloshed.”_

 _Finn went to stand but stumbled a bit, as if proving Clarke’s point. Clarke would have gloated if not for the look on his face. It was a look she had never seen before. Pure, unadulterated fury seemed to possess the man she loved. “How_ dare _you! I have been working my ass off to provide for us. To make a life for the two of us. And if a drink or two is what get’s me through the week, then so be it! We can’t all be perfect like you princess, with painting as a_ hobby _to pass the time.”_

 _Clarke felt the blows doubly. The nickname, “princess,” which had always been a playful joke between them, suddenly became soaked in sarcasm and disgust as it fell from his lips. (Little did she know that he would use that taunt during every drunken rampage) And calling painting a hobby? He knew that painting was one of the largest parts of her life, one of the largest parts of what made her_ her _._

 _“Fuck you, Finn! I cannot believe you would_ _—_ _” and before she could utter another word, she felt a hand crash into the side of her jaw, a blow so hard she went flying into the wall behind her, hitting the doorframe as she went._

___Clarke was shellshocked, unable to comprehend what was happening to her. She felt as though she was floating above, watch this terrible nightmare of an evening happening to some stranger and their husband. It was sad and pitiable, but it wasn’t her life. It couldn’t be, right?_ _ _

_Before she could form an opinion, Finn was next to her. He was petting her hair and whispering small apologies and empty promises that it would never happen again. Promises that he would work on his drinking and work on them, if she was willing. It was just the alcohol. And the stress. The new house payments and the new job. It was all too much. But he would work on it, for her. It was always for her. Because he loved her more than anything._

_Clarke didn’t know what to do so she let herself be lead to the bedroom and tucked into bed. She let herself be talked into a weekend trip right away, just the two of them, to work on their marriage. (Clarke couldn't help but think that it was so no one would see the bruise starting to form on her jaw) She let him kiss her on the head with a promise to sleep on the couch to give them both space. And when he was gone, she let herself get out of the bed and lock the door._

_Because she was terrified of her husband._

“Hey, Clarke. Clarke. Look at me,” Octavia said insistently, squatting in front of Clarke’s sitting form and shaking her shoulders gently to jolt the blonde out of her daze. “Are you okay? What are you thinking about?”

Raven was there now too, looking at Clarke with concern and with a fresh glass of wine.

“I was just… lost in a bad memory. He wasn’t always like this, you know? You guys remember, right?” Clarke asked, searching for affirmation that the man she had spent a third of her life with wasn’t always the monster he was now.

“Yeah, babe. We remember,” Raven said sympathetically, passing Clarke a new glass. Clarke took it silently, wondering if the deep-colored liquid would make her feel better or worse.

“But…?”

Octavia jumped in this time. “But he’s not that person anymore. People change, they evolve. Sometimes for the better and… sometimes not.”

Clarke nodded but didn’t respond.

Raven broke through the silence. “You know, it’s okay to freak out. It’s okay to cry or scream or break shit. Hell, I would do all three if I were you. But I want you to know that you are stronger than that. Stronger than him. Look how far you’ve come in the past six months. Don’t let that man dictate how you live your life.”

“But…” Clarke tried, her throat closing. “What if I’m not, Ray? What if I’m not strong enough? I mean, look at me. I see him once and I pretty much fall apart. How am I supposed to move on knowing he is right there, always right around the corner?”

“By taking it one day at a time, just like you’ve been doing,” Octavia assured. “Besides, you’ve got me and Raven and Bell and everyone else who are ready to support and defend you no matter what.”

_And Lexa._

Clarke knew they were trying to make her feel better, she really did. But even now she was relying on someone else’s strength. When would she no longer need to rely on others? She wanted—no _needed_ —to be strong for herself.

“Can we just… forget this happened for now? Watch some _Friends_ and pretend that our problems are no bigger than Rachel pretending to be a waitress?” Clarke tried with a small smile.

Raven and Octavia both nodded and they put a random episode of _Friends_ onto the TV. It wasn’t long before they were bickering about Ross’ infamous “We were on a break!” line. Raven sided with Ross, mostly because she had been in a similar situation and to get a rise out of the fiery brunette, while Octavia insisted that that was no excuse. Clarke half-watched the show and half-listened to their argument before they called her in to be tiebreaker.

Ever Switzerland between their arguments, she said that it would be okay if it weren’t less than 24 hours after they had decided to take said break and left it at that.

They both nodded again, accepting the compromise, before turning their attention back to the show. It didn’t take long for another argument, this time about whether Joey was a fuckboy,  began.

The three of them eventually fell asleep on the couch sometime after three, entangled and content off of wine.

 

* * *

 

Snoring.

That was all Octavia heard when she woke up the next morning. Dazed and confused, because Lincoln never snored, Octavia turned her head a little and tried opening her eyes so as to dispel the sleepiness that overtook them and to find the source of that godforsaken noise.

Raven was laying next to her, her face right next to Octavia, and her arm was wrapped around Octavia’s torso. Octavia shook her shoulder gently, trying to get the other woman to wake up.

“Raveeennn. Raaaaven. Wake up,” Octavia tried, to which she received another snore. “Goddamn it, Ray. Wake the fuck up!” she said louder, this time with a shove.

Raven jumped slightly. “Where’s the fire?!”

“There’s no fire, you idiot. There was a foghorn, though. Jesus, Raven. When did you start snoring like that? I don’t remember it being that bad when we were in college,” Octavia teased.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Raven mocked sarcastically. “I don’t usually get a lot of sleep, okay. And alcohol makes it worse.” She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and Octavia did the same. “Hey, where’s Clarke?”

Octavia looked around, just now noticing that the third member of their trio was not on the sectional as well. “Maybe she moved to her bed to avoid the sound of my dying soul?” Octavia quipped, to which she received a punch in the shoulder.

“You make coffee,” Raven grunted, “I’ll go check on Clarke.” Raven made her way up to Clarke’s room and Octavia made her way to the kitchen.

Octavia was just putting the water on to boil and adding grounds to the french press when Raven made her way back downstairs, a look of perplexity on her face. “She’s not there. Can you give her a call? Maybe she went to the studio early.”

Octavia pressed Clarke’s name on her speed dial and waited for the ring. A buzz caused both girls to move back into the living room where they found Clarke’s phone in the cushions.

Raven grabbed the phone and looked back at Octavia, worry clearly etched across her face. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

 

* * *

  

It was around noon, and Lexa was being _dismissed_ from practice by Indra to rest her pitching arm for tomorrow’s game. Lexa tried her best to argue, but Indra gave her the sternest of looks and Lexa knew it was futile. She wasn’t too upset though. She was tired and content from the date with Clarke the night before. Would it be too soon to call Clarke and see if she was busy? She made her way back into the locker room and grabbed her bags. She pulled out her phone, noticing a missed call from Raven, with whom she had exchanged numbers with at the bar crawl.

She immediately pressed the girl’s name, calling her back. After two rings, Raven picked up.

“Lexa?” Raven asked skipping any formalities. “Have you heard from Clarke?”

“No?” Lexa responded, the question evident in her tone. “Should I have?”

“No, no,” Raven assured with a sigh. “It’s just, she was gone when we woke up and she left her phone at our place, which she never does. Octavia and I tried the usual places—her favorite coffee shop, her studio—but we couldn’t find her and we had to go to work. I just…” Raven seemed to be calming from her quickly paced rant, “I just didn’t know if you had heard from her, is all.”

Lexa considered those facts, noting the worried tone in Raven’s voice, and her concern grew. “I haven’t seen or heard from her. Did something happen?”

“No… yes,” Raven seemed conflicted to continue. “It’s not for me to say. Just… let me know if you get into contact with her, okay?”

“Sure thing, Raven,” Lexa promised.

“Thanks, Woods,” was all the other woman said before the line went dead.

Lexa continued her walk to her car, contemplating where the elusive blonde could have gone and what could have happened to make her bolt without warning. She remembered then, something Clarke had said the night before.

_They were wandering through the ancient Mesopotamian exhibit, Clarke staring in awe at each of the statues that had amazingly and impossibly withstood the passage of time. Lexa watched on fondly as Clarke ranted about how old they were and how beautiful they were in their archaic spendor._

_Clarke looked over at Lexa then, her exuberant smile dwindling a little in worry._

_“I’m boring you, aren’t I?” Clarke asked, as though it were inevitable that someone would find her passion for the topic dull._

_Lexa couldn’t help but think that it was inevitable that she would find anything the blonde said enthralling. With passion like that, she could be talking about the evolution of the platypus and Lexa knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would listen all night._

_“Anything but,” Lexa assured, her honesty clear in her gaze. “Your passion is… enthralling.” Lexa said, using the only word in her mind to describe the blonde in that moment._

_Lexa noticed the blonde blush a little as she moved her gaze back to the statue and Lexa smiled a little at that._

_“You know,” Clarke continued, brushing over the compliment, as she always did. “Whenever I feel like everything in my life is going wrong_ _—_ _when things are hanging by a thread and it could all come crashing down on me at any moment in some catastrophic way_ _—_ _I come to museums. I come and I stare at the art, like some people go to church and pray, and I hope beyond reason that it will all get better.” Clarke paused, as if lost in thought. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”_

_Lexa looked at Clarke the way the blonde looked at the statues: in awe and wonder at her beauty and how she had withstood the test of time. She seemed so broken sometimes. So lost. Yet here she was, in all her glory, with her passion seeping out of her as if something like that were so easily found._

_“Anything but,” Lexa said firmly with a smile, which caused Clarke to beam back._

_They continued on, Clarke shining like the sun and Lexa simply feeling lucky enough to be so close to that light._

Lexa was sitting in her car and made an executive decision to find her. She started her car and made her way to the closest art museum.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was sitting in one of the exhibits at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, alternating between looking at the art and people watching.

 _Twelve._ The number of cherubs in the various classical paintings around her.

When was the last time she had felt the need to count to distract herself from her life? She couldn’t remember.

 _Three._ The number of couples she had seen pass through the room.

It only stung a little, watching them with their joined hands and carelessly joyful faces.

 _Seven_. The number of tourists she had seen with fanny packs strapped around their waists, wandering aimlessly without true appreciation for the art.

 _What a waste_ , Clarke thought to the art, as if it were a living being. _You deserve to be appreciated so much more_. Clarke wondered subconsciously if she should be making that same assessment about her own life.

Clarke thought back to the night before. How she had wandered through some of the most beautiful art in the country with a woman who looked at her with something beyond appreciation in her eyes. With ardure? With adoration? Something with which Clarke was just beginning to realize she not only wanted but deserved.

 _Four_. The number of paintings in that room that depicted love. A man looking at a woman as if she were his reason for existence. A woman looking at a man as if her were the reason she was still breathing.

Is that what she was finding with Lexa? Love? That was what she had with Finn, or so she thought.

Octavia’s words from the night before echoed in her head: _People change, they evolve._

Had she changed?

She thought back to the idyllic, wide-eyed girl she had been entering college. Full of privilege and possibility, enough to earn her the nickname “princess,” at least. She certainly wasn’t that girl anymore.

She thought back to when her father died. How the world had seemed a little less bright and the possibilities became limited. She thought about how Finn had, in many ways, filled in for her father as her cheerleader and guide in life. And how while her father had encouraged her art, Finn had encouraged medical school because it would “take them places”. And how she had decided that semester to switch her major, much to the glee of her mother and Finn.

She thought back to medical school and her residency, which she had really only finished a little over a year and a half prior. The long hours, the endless amounts of knowledge she had acquired. She had become hardened over those years. More tenacious, more abrasive. Her life had been incredibly stable, until it wasn’t. Until Finn had begun to drink and their relationship—which had been her rock through the hard years—had become the reason life was so hard.

And now, here she was. More broken than she could remember being. But more alive as well. The light that she had lost when her father died was beginning to come back. Was it because she was pursuing art? Did that connect her to her father and bring light back into her life?

Clarke wanted to say that that was it. But she was tired of lying to herself.

It was because of Lexa. Lexa, who looked at her like she was the world. Lexa, who took care of a boy who wasn’t hers, like he was. Lexa, who had lost both parents and still managed to smirk with so much goddamn charm. Lexa, who flew her to new cities, not to impress her, but because she believed she deserved it.

Clarke made a decision, then, to tell Lexa everything. Because she knew without a doubt that Lexa would accept her, all of her. Every damaged and broken part of her. And she would put her back together. In many ways, she had already started.

Clarke stood and turned around, caught off guard by the sight in front of her.

“Lexa?”

* * *

 

Lexa was driving to her next destination, the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and third on her list, tired, frustrated and a little flustered. When had museums gotten so big? She pulled into a spot, rushing a little more than she should, through the rooms.

 _Where are you, Clarke_?

She walked past another room, glancing in it for a moment, and almost continued when she saw a flash of blonde. She stood in the doorway briefly, trying to catch her breath before approaching the messy-haired blonde.

The blonde stood and turned then, a look of determination that quickly morphed into confusion on her face.

“Lexa?”

Lexa’s breathing was still slightly labored but she couldn’t stop the small smile of relief that took over her face. “Hey.”

Clarke smiled too. “Hey yourself.”

Lexa walked over to Clarke and, without a word, wrapped her arms around her. Clarke stood frozen in shock for a moment before melting into the embrace. Clarke, who had steered away from physical contact in the last couple years, had never been more eager for it.

“I was so worried,” Lexa whispered into her ear. She pulled back then but maintained contact with hands on the blonde’s shoulder. Her eyes moved over Clarke as if assessing if any damage had been done. “Are you okay?”

Clarke’s smiled broadened. “Better now.” Clarke didn’t clarify whether it was because she had time to think or because Lexa was finally by her side. It was a bit of both.

Lexa sighed, all of the distress and tension she had melting away at the assurance.

“You ready to get out of here?” Lexa asked gently.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” Clarke smiled.

They began their walk out of the museum, Lexa’s arm around Clarke’s shoulder protectively and Clarke’s arm around Lexa’s waist.

“Back to Raven’s?” Lexa asked, looking down at the blonde. Even with the day old makeup, messy hair and disheveled clothes, Lexa couldn’t remember seeing something so beautiful. Clarke seemed lighter too. Everything from her steps to the smile she was giving Lexa now, it was as if the woman beside her was floating a little as she walked.

“Can we go back to your place, actually?” Clarke asked innocently. Lexa’s eyebrows rose slightly so Clarke clarified. “I want to tell you something, I’d just rather it were in private.”

Lexa still had a confused look on her face, but she smiled anyways and nodded her consent. For how could she ever refuse Clarke?

 

* * *

 

After dropping Clarke’s car off at Raven’s place and sending Raven a quick text that Clarke was with Lexa, the two made their way to Lexa’s house. Clarke had insisted they go to Lexa’s place, neglecting to tell her that it was because she was afraid of Finn barging in at any moment, and Lexa explained that because of how small the streets were, each home only had one parking spot unless you wanted to pay for more. That wasn’t necessary until Aden could drive, and Lexa shuddered at the thought.  

They pulled up to the townhouse and Clarke was in awe. It was the kind of home you imagined would belong in the Back Bay Boston area, all red brick and large bay windows. Clarke continued her staring as Lexa moved around the car to open the door, feeling underdressed for the neighborhood in her ripped jeans and her ratty hair.

They walked up hand-in-hand, both unwilling to separate for even a moment. Lexa unlocked the door with her free hand and lead Clarke up to the second floor, where the kitchen and living area was. The space, open and contemporary with white walls and clean lines, was a dream home in Clarke’s opinion. It was, like Lexa, very straightforward and orderly.

Clarke imagined some brighter artwork on the walls and little things like mementos from their first vacation sitting over the fire. She could picture movie night, curled up next to Lexa while Aden tried to shoot popcorn into her mouth. She could imagine Lexa yelling at them for making a mess, but laughing nonetheless because she couldn’t resist giving her two favorite people every happiness.

She could see them older, taking pictures in the entryway as Aden went to his first prom. She could see Lexa hiding the smallest of happy tears, trying to keep her strong, stoic composure together.

She could see them, old and happy, sitting under the bay windows in those large chairs with Lexa trying to finally finish a Tolstoy novel and Clarke sketching a bird that had landed on the tree outside.

She could see it all, a lifetime of memories and love. It was so close. So real. And Clarke wanted all of it.

But first, she had to be honest. Lexa led them over to the couch, asking if Clarke wanted anything to drink. Clarke declined so Lexa sat, though at a safe distance so Clarke wouldn’t feel crowded.

“Well, what did you want to tell me?” Lexa would never admit it, but she was anxious. What if Clarke was ending whatever they had? What if Lexa had been too forward and scared the seemingly skittish blonde away? Lexa knew she had a tendency to fall and fall fast, but she had felt something in her gut telling her that Clarke needed her as much as she needed Clarke. Had that feeling been wrong?

“It’s… about my past. There is something I haven’t told you. In fact, only about three people in the world know the whole story,” Clarke started, referring to Raven, Octavia and Bellamy. She hadn’t told the rest of her friend group or ever her mom about the whys, though they all knew something had happened between her and Finn. She looked down, unsure how to continue, and saw Lexa’s hand creep across the space and take one of hers, rubbing small circles on her palm with her thumb.

“You can tell me anything, Clarke.” Lexa encouraged.

“Just… will you promise me that you won’t look at me any differently?” Clarke had grown used to Lexa’s looks. Her looks of friendly competition and fierce determination; her looks of quiet contemplation and silent understanding. And, more than anything, her looks of affection. Of pure and unadulterated affection that made Clarke feel like she was someone worth loving. Clarke wanted to stand on her own two feet, she really did, but those looks made her feel like she was flying. And wasn't that what life was about? Why stand idle when you could soar? “And that you’ll let me finish? It's gonna be a lot to take in.”

“I promise, Clarke.” Lexa said without hesitation. She couldn’t think of a single thing that could make her view of the blonde change. Clarke was everything.

“Well, here it goes,” Clarke took a breath before looking Lexa straight in the eye. “I’m married.”

“You’re married?!” Lexa let go of Clarke’s hand, as though burned by its touch. That was the last thing she had expected. Lexa went to stand but Clarke grabbed her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks.

Neither could ignore the electricity running through their touching skin.

“Please, Lexa. You promised you’d let me finish.” Clarke pleaded, dropping Lexa’s wrist when she noticed the brunette glance down at it more than once. They both missed the contact when it was gone.

Lexa could never resist those blue eyes that reminded her of Montana skies in this light. Maybe one day, when all of this settled she could take Clarke to Montana. She could see Clarke, standing at the top of a hill and painting that beautiful sky while Lexa rode horses with Aden. And Lexa wanted all of it.

Lexa sat back down, though farther away this time. (It only stung a little.) Lexa nodded her consent for Clarke to continue.

Clarke offered a small smile to calm Lexa’s nerves (and her own) but it quickly dropped when she thought of what she would have to say next. “I’m married. But we’re separated and we have been for a little over six months.” Clarke looked down at the fading ring line on her left hand and Lexa wondered how she hadn’t noticed it sooner. “He’s the reason why I moved back to Boston from California.”

Clarke paused to allow Lexa to process, for which Lexa was incredibly grateful. It was a lot to take in, even for someone as levelheaded as herself.

Lexa gathered herself. “Can I ask some questions?” Lexa tried tentatively, always one to desire as much information as possible for clarity and peace.

Clarke nodded, feeling both eager that Lexa hadn’t kicked her out yet and afraid of her reaction at the answers. Clarke reminded herself, though, that Lexa was not Finn; she didn’t need to be afraid. “Ask me anything you want.”

Lexa organized her questions into a list in her head. “Well how long were you together?”

“We got married right before I started my residency so we’ve been married for a little over four years. We met in college though, in our sophomore year.” Clarke said, gauging Lexa’s reaction.

Lexa did the math in her head. Over ten years. She was interrupting a relationship that had been going for ten years. For as long as Aden had been alive. She didn’t know how to react so she asked another question instead.

“And why did you separate?” Lexa asked in her most composed voice.

Clarke sucked in a breath. She could see the gears turning in Lexa’s head, but answered anyways, though her voice quieted considerably. “Finn, that’s his name, had gotten a promotion at work about two years ago, right after we bought our first house together. The stress got to him and he started drinking, then cheating. A little after that, I caught him at one of my hospital’s charity events with the coat check girl and confronted him about everything. That was…” she paused, gathering herself. “That was the first time he hit me and it never really stopped after that until I left him.”

And before Clarke knew what was happening, Lexa had engulfed her in the warmest embrace, one hand on the back of her head while the other wrapped around her waist. And Clarke, as she always did in the presence of the brunette, melted.

They stayed that way for a while, neither willing to pull away.

Lexa made the first move, though only pulling back enough to look in Clarke’s eyes. She caressed her cheeks and tucked a strand of unmanageable blonde hair behind her ear and just stared. She didn’t have words to give Clarke, no apologies or consult could make up for what she had been through. So she leaned in slowly, looking between Clarke’s eyes and her lips, as though asking for permission. Clarke leaned in the rest of the way, closing the gap. Lexa put all of the love and admiration she contained for the woman before her in that kiss and Clarke hummed in contentment in response.

A loud knocking broke through their little world and Clarke pulled away first. She whispered against Lexa’s mouth, “We should probably get that. It could be Anya or Aden…”

Lexa chuckled slightly, amused that Clarke thought about her family’s presence at a time like this. “Naw, Aden is with friends and Anya is working late. Besides, they both have keys.” Lexa leaned in again and Clarke couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her throat as they began moving to a laying position.

Another knock came through the floor and Lexa almost growled in frustration as Clarke pulled away again. However, her frustration diminished when she saw the smile on Clarke’s lips and the mirth in her eyes. “We should really get that…”

“It’s probably just a Jehovah’s witness or something,” Lexa brushed off and quickly grabbed the remote on the coffee table, turning on her sound system and playing whatever was on last. Suddenly, _Wonderwall_ by Oasis came blasting through the speakers and Clarke couldn’t help the laughter that burst forth without warning.

“Way to set the mood, stud,” Clarke said, her eyes still crinkled and shining.

“Oh, shut up,” Lexa playfully muttered before reconnecting their lips, quick to hide the blush at Clarke hearing her guilty pleasure.

The music was loud. Too loud, they would both think later.

 

_And I said maybe_

 

Too loud for them to hear the door open underneath—which Lexa uncharacteristically forgot to lock in her worry— or the subsequent beep of the security system.

 

_You’re gonna be the one that saves me_

 

Too loud for them to hear the footsteps coming up the stairs.

 

_And after all_

 

Too loud for them to notice the man standing on the other side of the living room, uncontrollable rage etched on his face.

 

_You’re my wonderwall._

 

Only his voice, jagged and sharp, broke through the music. “What the fuck is going on here?!”

Lexa quickly got up and stood between Clarke and the intruder, turning off the music as she went.

Instead of answering, she countered icily, “The real question is, who are you and what are you doing in my home?” Lexa was a completely different person than before: authoritative, strong and unwavering. This was why they called her commander; her demeanor, calm and unshakeable, was absolutely terrifying.

“My name is Finn, and _that_ ,” pointing at Clarke as though she were his stolen belonging, “is my wife. And I came to get her back.”

Lexa was practically boiling, but she set her jaw and did her best to maintain her anger. “From what I’ve heard, you don’t deserve to call her that.”

“Why does everybody keep saying that?” Finn seemed to shout at the universe. He had that same look about him as before: shaky, sweaty and red. His nose, which it seems Raven had been broken, was set and bruised, and he was clearly very drunk.

Clarke stood then, joining her hand with Lexa’s. “You know why, Finn.” she said with as much strength and conviction as she could muster. “How did you find us here anyways?”

“I followed you,” Finn responded as if that were the most logical and sane thing ever.

“You need to go, Finn. Call a cab, go to the airport and go home.” Clarke demanded.

“Not without you,” he insisted, taking a step forward.

And without thought, Lexa pulled Clarke slightly behind her and took an intimidating step forward as well.

“If you dare take another step towards her, it’ll be the last one you take for quite some time.” Lexa promised lowly, eyes darkening at the incorrigible man.

Finn seemed to contemplate his moves. It was basic instinct: fight or flight? The Finn Clarke used to know was a flyer; he did anything to ensure peace even if it bruised his ego. However, with the alcohol coursing through him and egging him on, he chose fight. With a fist aimed at Lexa’s jaw, Finn lunged.

Lexa stepped aside quickly, pulling Clarke with her. She grabbed his extended arm with one hand, pulling it behind his back, and put her other arm around his neck in a choke hold. He swung wildly for a moment, the pain in his restrained shoulder numbed by the alcohol, and Lexa grunted as he landed an elbow to her gut. She took a step back and when he lunged again she ducked under it, launching her knee into his stomach. As he crumpled to the ground, she hit him on the side of his head, knocking him out. _Strike two._

Clarke, who was frozen in place during the small fight, was broken from her reverie when Lexa came towards her and placed both hands on the blonde’s cheeks as tears began to well in her eyes.

“Hey, Clarke. Are you okay?” Lexa asked, searching again for the smallest injury on the blonde.

Clarke let out a single shaky laugh that almost sounded like a hiccup, a tear falling from her eye. “Am I okay? What the fuck kind of question is that, Lexa? You’re the one that was just in a fight."

Lexa shook her head in relief, seeing nothing physically wrong. “My parents had me in self defense since I was five and now Anya and I do boxing and Krav Maga.”

Clarke shook her head as well. “Of course you do. I’m just glad that you’re alright.” she said placing her hands on the brunette’s cheeks, mirroring their position.

“So what do you want to do with the idiot?” Lexa asked, turning to look at the motionless Finn on the floor. She never broke contact with Clarke though, wrapping a protective arm around her waist.

“Call the cops, I guess?” Clarke said, unsure. “I never filed a restraining order but this is technically breaking and entering.”

Lexa nodded. “You call the cops and I’ll keep an eye on him?” She pulled her cell out of her back pocket and passed it to Clarke. “Here. The password is 0820, it’s Aden’s birthday.”

Clarke would have playfully teased her for using the boy’s birthday if not for the shock at hearing those digits. “No shit, really?”

“Yeah, why?” Lexa asked, bewildered.

“Nothing, it’s just… that’s my birthday too.” Clarke said, a wily smile on her face.

“No shit, really?” Lexa said, a shiteating grin taking over her face.

“Yeah, really.” Clarke responded, a matching grin on her face.

“Well, now I really have no excuse to ever forget,” Lexa teased and Clarke lit up at the possibility of being such an integral part of Lexa’s life.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you so much for your help, Officer O’Brien. And tell your daughter that if I can play in the majors, so can she.” Lexa said with a friendly smile, closing the door behind them.

The cops had come and gone, taking Finn with them. Both Clarke and Lexa gave their reports. When Lexa gave her full name, the officer interviewing her, Officer O’Brien, put two and two together, realizing who exactly he was talking to. Lexa sent home a signed ball for his daughter, an avid fan and baseball hopeful, with the assurance that the entire event be kept out of any newspapers or gossip magazines. Lexa liked to remain out of the spotlight, for Aden’s sake if nothing else.

Lexa joined Clarke on the couch, the air considerably lighter now that everything was out in the open. Clarke curled up next to her, her head on Lexa's shoulder.

“Hey, Clarke?” Lexa asked, breaking the silence.

Clarke hummed quietly in response, eyes already beginning to close after the eventful day.

“Can we not tell Aden about this? He’s a sensitive kid and I don’t want to worry him.”

Clarke’s heart warmed at Lexa’s love for the boy. “Of course, Lexa.”

As if on cue, keys could be heard in the door and a loud, “Bye Lexa! Bye Kara! And thanks for the ride, Mrs. Danvers!” could be heard coming up the stairs.

Lexa stood to greet him and Clarke followed. The boy ran up the stairs, taking two at a time by the sound of it, before stopping on the landing, confusion clear on his face.

“Lexa? Clarke? What are you doing here?” he asked, looking back and forth between the two women.

“I don’t know about this one,” Lexa said playfully, gesturing to Clarke. “But _I_ live here.”

Aden rolled his eyes, used to Lexa’s dry humor. “You know what I _mean._ You’re usually still practicing at this time.”

“Ah,” Lexa said with fake appall, a hand on her chest. “You caught us, kid. We were playing hooky today. Wanna ditch homework and play with us?” Lexa asked playfully.

“Lexa!” Clarke reprimanded. “School comes first, you know that.”

It all seemed incredibly mundane. As if they were some normal, domestic family and Clarke’s abusive ex hadn’t just been wheeled off not 15 minutes prior. Lexa wanted it. She wanted all of it desperately.

“I’ll have you both know that I finished all of my homework at Alex and Kara’s house.” Aden said smugly, crossing his arms. _A mannerism he no doubt learned from Anya_ , Lexa thought.

“Well I don’t know about you,” Lexa winked at Clarke, “But I think that deserves dinner at Chilli Duck!”

Aden practically jumped up and down in excitement.

Clarke, meanwhile, was completely confused. She turned to Lexa, her voice dripping in sarcasm. “Chilli Duck?”

“Don’t let the name fool you, Clarke,” Lexa promised, “Chilli Duck has _the best_ curries in Boston. Now you, little man,” she continued, turning to Aden, “go get changed. I refuse to send you to school without your uniform because of another curry incident. Your teacher is going to start thinking we are lying.”

Aden saluted with a smirk, “Aye, aye, Commander,”  clearly picking up on Lexa’s new nickname.

Lexa began to chase after him as he bolted for the stairs, narrowly avoiding Lexa with a giggle. “You little!”

Clarke watched on, unable to contain her smile. This is what she wanted. The jokes, the favorite local restaurants, the teasing, the laughs. She wanted all of it. And it was so close, it was practically teasing her with it’s proximity.

 

* * *

  

Lexa was right, it was the _best_ curry in Boston. They ate family style at the little hole in the wall, four different curries spread around the table, all open for the taking.

“So, Aden,” Clarke started, finally tearing herself away from the food. “Are Alex and Kara friends from school?”

“Yeah,” Aden said, clearing a bite with his lemonade. “We’re all in the same grade.”

“Oh,” Clarke said, slightly astonished. “Are they twins?”

“No, Kara is adopted. They treat her like she’s blood though; Alex even said that Kara was like the sister she had always wanted. Sort of how Lexa is with me,” Aden finished with a smile.

Clarke didn’t know what to say, wondering if she had accidentally broached a sensitive subject. After all, Lexa hadn’t revealed anything else about Aden’s past or how he had come into her care. Clarke looked at Lexa then and was surprised to see no trace of hesitation or trepidation on her face; the brunette merely smiled and reached under the table to squeeze the hand in Clarke’s lap. A promise to tell her the whole story later.

Clarke nodded subtly, turning back to an oblivious Aden who was consumed completely by the food in front of him.

“They have pretty names. Do you think they’re cute, Aden?” Clarke teased.

“Objectively…” Aden paused, thinking seriously for a moment. ( _Seriously, what planet did this kid come from?_ ) “Yes, they are cute. But Alex is dating this girl in another class named Maggie. They’re in it for the long haul, I can tell.” Lexa and Clarke couldn’t stop their smirks or shared look at that. “And Kara is dating this kid named Mike Matthews in the year above us, he’s an assh…” he paused when he saw Lexa’s stern look over her glass of water, “...jerk. Maybe in a few years, when she’s ready for a more mature man, I’ll make my move.”

“Maybe you can impress her with your _colorful_ language,” Lexa suggested sardonically.

“Hey, don’t blame me!” Aden defended, hands in the air in mock surrender. “It’s not my fault that you and Anya curse like sailors when you think I’m not around. Noises in our house echo up the stairs, you know.”

Clarke couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of her at the little scene and both of her eating companions looked at her in bewilderment, making her laugh harder. It was too normal. Too amazing to be true. And Clarke couldn’t even stop to explain.

The laughter, it seemed, was contagious and soon their entire table was in fits, much to the confusion of the other diners.

 

* * *

 

After much pleading and puppy dog eyes directed at Lexa, the three settled onto the couch with a bucket of olive oil and sea salt popcorn—much to the disappointment of Clarke, an avid butter lover—as _How to Train Your Dragons 2_ came onto the screen. The puppy dog eyes were needed because the movie would end about a half an hour after Aden’s bedtime.

Clarke settled in next to Lexa, her head nestled into the brunette’s neck, and Lexa wrapped an arm around her shoulder, putting a foot up. Aden started off on the floor before moving to sit next to Clarke, laying his head on her lap. The last thing Clarke saw before the closed her eyes was the Dreamworks logo playing on the screen

And when Clarke woke up two hours later, they were still in that position. A sandy-haired boy snored lightly on her lap and Lexa, with an arm around her, was holding open a book with the other hand. Clarke lifted her head, blinking to clear the sleep in her eyes.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Lexa said quietly, closing the book. The title read _War and Peace_ and Clarke smiled a little as she remembered the imaginary future that had passed through her thoughts early that day. When she looked up, Lexa was wearing a pair of rectangular reading glasses and Clarke—who would later chop it up to being half asleep—swore she had never seen anything more precious.

“Hey,” Clarke whispered. “Why didn’t you wake me? I know Aden has school tomorrow and I’m sure you have a game.”

“Usually, if it’s just Aden, I’ll move him myself. But I couldn’t move both of you. Besides, I feel like you needed the rest after a day like today.”

Clarke smiled at the thoughtfulness that seemed to be an integral part of Lexa. “You’re not wrong. Hey, do you mind if I sleep here tonight? I don’t want to make you drive me back and Ubering would be ridiculous.”

“Sure, Clarke,” Lexa said, trying to contain her glee.

Clarke looked back down at the boy in her lap and ran her fingers gently through sandy hair that reminded her of trips to her grandparents’ house in the Hamptons in the summer. “We should get him to bed, though. He’s wiped.”

Lexa nodded and they moved up the stairs, Lexa carrying Aden as though he were still five and Clarke following close behind. They moved to one end of the hall on the third floor and deposited Aden in a room covered in movie posters, such as _Casanova_ and _The Godfather_ , and vinyl album cover art from artists such as the Beatles and Kiss. And Clarke knew then that Aden, just as much as Lexa, had begun to capture her heart.

They shut the door quietly behind him and made their way to the opposite end of the floor. The room they entered was huge, clearly the master bedroom if the sitting area, walk in closet and ensuite bathroom were any indication.

Lexa moved efficiently, pulling out two sets of sweatpants and T-shirts, a spare toothbrush and towel, as well as extra blankets from the hallway closet. Meanwhile Clarke sent a quick text to Raven from Lexa’s phone, assuring her that she was safe and staying the night at Lexa’s. Lexa handed the necessary things to Clarke and began to make her way to the door with a quick kiss on Clarke’s cheek and a goodnight whispered in the blonde’s ear that made Clarke shiver.

It took Clarke a moment to shake herself out of her daze. “Wait!” she called a little too loudly. “Where are you going?”

Lexa looked bewildered and unsure. “I didn’t want to assume anything, so I’m going to sleep in the spare bedroom.”

“Lexa, no. I’m not going to kick you out of your own bedroom! I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom.” Clarke declined quickly. She continued slowly, unsure of where she was going with her next thought. “Or, you know, we could both sleep in here?”

Lexa still looked on the fence. “Are you sure, Clarke? You’ve been through a lot today.”

“Lexa, I haven’t been able to sleep well in six months and two seconds on your shoulder and I’m out like a light. I’m sure,” Clarke assured with a small grin.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Lexa said, her shoulders relaxing. “Well, you take the bathroom in here. I’ll use the other one,” and the brunette was gone before Clarke could protest.

Clarke came out of the bathroom, her two day old makeup finally washed away and her hair brushed out and thrown into another messy bun. The T-shirt she was wearing was an old Tarheels practice jersey with Woods in large letters on the back. She felt rejuvenated and completely unprepared to sleep. She crawled into the side the bed closest to the window, noticing another pair of reading glasses and a novel sitting on the opposite bedside table.

Lexa came in tentatively with a knock a few minutes later.

“Lexa, you don’t have to knock on your own bedroom door,” Clarke said with an eyeroll. The brunette entered completely and closed the door behind her. However, she still stood back from the bed, as if touching it would damn her. “You know, if you’re not comfortable sleeping together yet, I can crash in the guest bedroom. It’s not a big deal.” Clarke had begun to swing her legs out the bed when Lexa stopped her.

“That’s not it, Clarke,” Lexa replied quickly. “I just want to make sure _you’re_ comfortable.”

“Lexa, I appreciate it but I’m fine. I’m stronger than people give me credit for.” Clarke said, her frustration growing; she was tired of being stepped around and pampered like some dainty child.

“Clarke,” Lexa started, making her way to sit next to Clarke on the edge of the bed, looking into those cerulean eyes. “I think you might be the strongest person I have ever met.”

Neither of them realized it then, but Lexa had just given Clarke what exactly she needed: belief and confidence in the strength that was already there.

The two fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, needing nothing more than the other’s company and the promise of so much more.

 

* * *

 

Clarke was bored. Beyond bored. She was laying out by the pool while an unread copy of the _Handmaid’s Tale_ remained untouched beside her lounge chair. It was the Tuesday following her sleepover with Lexa, which they would later call their infamous 48-Hour First Date, and was home alone losing her mind.

Lexa, Bellamy and the rest of the team were at an away game in Texas then San Diego and wouldn’t be back until Friday. Raven was at a Tesla convention in New York—the car equivalent of the yearly Apple reveal, apparently—and Octavia was called away for an assignment at an undisclosed location. Though she didn’t miss them too much, they had been teasing her nonstop since her impromptu overnighter with Lexa the week prior.

Clarke would be at her studio but they were fumigating it and she wasn’t allowed in for 48 hours, not even to get her supplies to work at home.

Maybe it was time she got a job. Or talked to Anya about selling her work. Money wasn’t an issue, her father had left her plenty to live comfortably without steady income for years if she chose, but she needed purpose in her life again. Being a doctor had provided that but it hadn’t made her happy; maybe selling her art would provide a bit of both.

Clarke moved inside, rummaging the fridge for water and day old pizza. A knock on the door jolted her from her search and she threw on a light kimono that Raven had brought back from Japan to answer it. Without even thinking to look through the new security camera screen on the adjacent wall, Clarke opened the door.

The sight shouldn’t have shocked her, really. He had always been persistent. It was how he had convinced a young Clarke, who had promised herself she would remain single through college, to date him.

The real shock was his appearance. He was wearing the same clothes as the day he was arrested. He smelled of booze and sweat and the vein on his forehead looked about ready to burst. His eyes were red, his face flushed.

“You had me arrested.” Finn stated, calmer than Clarke expected.

“You attacked Lexa and I. In her house.” Clarke said with the same calm, wrapping her robe tighter around her middle.

“I… I don’t know what I was doing, Clarke. I just wanted to talk to you, baby, and seeing you with her, _like that_. It was too much to handle and I snapped.” Finn’s voice was still calm but his fists were clenching and releasing, giving his tumultuous emotions away. “Come on, baby, let me in. We can talk this out. Ten years is too long to give up after all we’ve been through and I need to know you forgive me. Please.”

Clarke wanted to close the door and say goodbye forever. She really did. But standing in front of her was the man she had spent a third of her life with. Ten years of tears. Of support. Of love. Of heartbreak. And here he was standing in front of her, begging for forgiveness. Begging for the life that they had. It would be so easy to just give in.

Clarke looked away from Finn. From her past. She couldn’t think when it was staring her back in the face, begging her to come back to it. Then, she saw it. A token from the arcade bar that she had picked up from the floor and placed on the entryway table without a thought not two days prior. A token that reminded her of Lexa. She knew, in that moment, that she could never forgive Finn, never go back to the way things were before. Because she had Lexa. Lexa who was sweet and kind and endlessly giving. Lexa who would never hurt her, at least not on purpose. Lexa, who was her present and possibly her future.

Then Clarke said something. Something she couldn’t remember ever saying to the man before her.

“No.” And then it was as if something clicked in Clarke’s head. She no longer felt pity or fear, she felt a rage pent up from every hit. Every verbal onslaught. Every betrayal. “No. You don’t get to come here and harass and stalk me and my friends. You don’t get to come and ask for forgiveness two years too late. You had every chance to change, Finn. To be better. And you didn’t take it. You need to go, Finn. I’ll be sending divorce papers. You better sign them, or I swear to God I’ll take you to court and sue you for everything you are.”

Clarke could see Finn shaking, the anger inside of him boiling over. She had seen this so many times over the past two years: the build up that lead to a violent outlash.

She was prepared this time, armed with renewed confidence and strength, when his fist burst forward with a lunge.

Clarke ducked, as she saw Lexa do, and rammed her elbow into his stomach. As he crumpled over, she jabbed her elbow upward into his face, sending him sprawled onto his back. A crunch and a yelp had Clarke believing that she broke his nose again, and she couldn’t stop her triumphant smile. _Strike three._

Finn glared up at her from the ground, but seemed too shocked to do anything.

“Finn. This is it, it’s over. When I close this door, I want you gone or I _will_ call the cops.”

“You bitch—” he started.

“Uh-uh,” Clarke stopped him. She pointed a finger up to a camera in the corner of the outer entrance way. “See that? Raven installed cameras after you showed up last week. They record everything and send it directly to a secure, online server. If you don’t leave, if you don’t sign the divorce papers, hell, if I ever see your miserable face again, I promise you I will take you to court and ruin your life and your career.” Clarke had never seen Finn so genuinely afraid and it filled Clarke with a sick satisfaction. “Now go.” and she slammed the door with a flourish.

She watched on the small screen near the door as Finn stood, pausing for a moment before looking up at the camera with disgust and walking away.

The divorce papers arrived, signed, not two weeks later.

And the next time she saw Finn, it was ten years later and she was reading CNN Money while Lexa was making breakfast. Finn had been arrested for money laundering and illegal trading. And Clarke let out the largest laugh.

It looked like she didn’t have to ruin his life after all, he did that all on his own.

 

* * *

 

Pictures:

(Only one today, since this chapter was mostly introspective but here ya go)

 

Room Lexa finds Clarke in at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts:

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings! 
> 
> Sorry again for the late update, I'm saving for a trip so I have been working doubles most days and I've just been too tired to write when I get home. On the plus side, this one is even longer than the last! Just as a heads up, I will probably be posting on Thursday next week because I am going to a wedding this weekend.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Comments, critiques and questions are always welcomed.
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely weekend!
> 
> xo Jax
> 
> P.S. Sorry for the changed formatting from previous chapters; I keep switching between Word and Google Docs depending on my schedule, so the format is taking the biggest hit! If you have a preference though, let me know and I'll do my best to accommodate.


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